
Class t % 

Book , 

Copyright N° 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



A 

WELL-PLANNED 

COURSE IN READING 



WITH 



Elocutionary Advice 



Arranged 

For the Use of Classes in 

Elocution and Reading 



BY 

CAROLINE B. Le ROW 

Formerly Instructor in Elocution in Smith and Vassar Colleges, 
Compiler of "Pieces for Every Occasion " 



COPYRIGHT, 1901, BY HINDS & NOBLE 



HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers 
4 Cooper Institute New York City 



U 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAY. 14 1901 

Copyright entry 

CLASS^TXXc. N«. 

COPY 8. 



'V 



■^%> 



Of Interest to You 



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PREFACE. 



All students are expected to be able to read well ordi- 
nary prose and poetry, and it is for the purpose of helping 
them to do this, as well as to help teachers in the teach- 
ing of reading, that this book has been prepared. 

It is thoroughly practical. No unnecessary technical 
terms are used. The subjects explained and illustrated 
are those only which, as the result of many years' experi- 
ence among teachers as well as pupils, the compiler h^s 
found most necessary. 

As physical development and correct vocalization must 
precede all good reading, the simplest and therefore most 
essential physical and vocal exercises are given, with full 
directions for their use. 

The selections for reading present nothing of a merely 
showy style of elocution. They are adapted for the upper 
classes of Grammar Schools as well as for High Schools 
and Colleges. 

The compiler believes that this new Course in Eeading 
contains more suitable material for elocutionary work in 
the schoolroom, in more condensed, analytical, and avail- 
able form, than any Eeader or Speaker now before the 
public. 

Thanks are due to Messrs. Harper & Brothers, Hough- 
ton, Mifflin & Co., Charles Scribner's Sons, and others for 
permission to make extracts from copyrighted editions of 
their publications. 

Caroline B. Le Row. 

May 10, 1901. 



CONTENTS, 



Suggestions to Teachers. 

PAGE 

Analysis, 23 

Articulation, 14 

Degrees of Force, 38 

Emphasis, 16 

Examples in Emphasis, 60 

Inflections, 51 

Movement, • ..... 47 

Physical Exercises 11 

Pitch, 49 

Qualities of Voice, 25 

Stress, 40 

Styles of Reading, 22 

Suggestions to Teachers, 7 

Vocal Exercises, 12 

Vowels and Consonants, 15 



Selections for Reading. 



A Battle of Icebergs, 
A Beautiful Legend, 
Abraham Davenport, 
A Historical Address, 
A Liberal Education, 
American Nationality, 
A Plea for Enthusiasm, 
Apostrophe to the Ocean, 
A Royal Princess, 
A Thanksgiving Growl, 
A Union, . 



John G. Whittier, 
Daniel Webster, . 
Thomas Huxley, . 
Bufus Choate, 



Lord Byron, 
Christina G. Bossetti, 
Eleanor Kirk, 
K. E* Junkermann, 



260 

80 

118 

170 

312 

87 

61 

169 

101 

217 

244 



4 Contents. 








PAGE 


Chamouni, . . . 


Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 


120 


Christian Citizenship, 


T. Be Witt Talmage, . 


195 


Compensation, 


Frances Ridley Haver gal, 


325 


Dolly, 


Harriet Beecher Stowe, 


104 


Dombey and Son, .... 


Charles Bickens, . 


137 


Eloquence of the Amer. Revolution, 


Bufus Choate, 


248 


Enthusiasm of Life, .... 


A. Harrington, 


322 


Eulogy on Henry Ward Beecher, 


Joseph Parker, B. B,, . 


133 


Extracts from Essays, 


Ralph Waldo Emerson, 


143 


History, 


James Anthony Froude, 


183 


How to Have What We Like, . 


Horace Smith, 


315 


How to Read, 


John Ruskin, 


208 


Immortality of True Patriotism, 


James A. Garfield, 


73 




William Black, 


323 


Jack Abbott's Breakfast, . 


Leigh Hunt, 


159 


Leather-Clad Fox, .... 


Thomas Carlyle, . 


147 


Life, ....... 


John Ruskin, 


321 


Lilies in Prison, .... 


Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, 


149 


Longing, 


James Russell Lowell, . 


233 


Losses 


Frances Brown, 


187 


Loyalty, 


S. S. Curry, 


63 


Macaulay, 


William M. Punshon, . 


241 


Modulation, 




86 


Napoleon Bonaparte, 




293 


Nature's Altruist, 


Mme. El Be Louie, 


130 




Susan Coolidge, 


222 


Nobility, 


Alice Cary, . 


216 


Ode to Duty, 


William Wordsworth, . 


71 


Opinions Stronger than Armies, 


Luther A. Ostrander, . 


84 


Our Common Schools, 


Edward Everett, . 


173 


Our Honored Dead, . . 


Edward Everett, . 


316 


Our New Livery, and Other Things, 


Geo. Wm. Curtis, 


122 


Partridge at the Play, . . . 


Henry Fielding, . 


202 


Patriotism, 


Fisher Ames, 


213 


Peace of Mind, 




64 


Press On ! 


Park Benjamin, . 


211 


Pyramids Not All Egyptian, . 


P. 0. Barnes, 


66 


Rights and Duties, . 


F. W. Robertson, . 


82 



. Contents. 5 

PAGE 

Rudder Grange, .... Frank B. Stockton, . 97 

Scientific Education, . . . Thomas Huxley, . . 280 

Shared, Lucy Larcom, . . 182 

Shipwrecked, Frangois Coppee, . . 93 

Sir Galahad, ..... Alfred Tennyson, . . 291 

Something Great, . . . . 319 

Sound and Sense, .... Bobert Chambers, . 219 

Tell's Apostrophe to Liberty, . . J. S. Knowles, . . 257 

The American Sailor, . . . B. F. Stockton, . . 271 

The Beggar, . . . . James Russell Lowell, . 276 

The Beneficence of Grass, . . John J. Lngalls, . . 259 

The Breath of Life, .... Caroline B. Le Bow, . 306 

The Builders, . . . . . Henry W. Longfellow, . 303 

The Classic Poets, .... Henry Nelson Coleridge, 175 

The Doom of Claudius and Cynthia, Maurice Thompson, . 128 

The Duty of the American Scholar, Geo. Wm. Curtis, . . 273 

The Elements of National Wealth, James G. Blaine, . . 246 

The Essentials of True Rep. Govt., . Alexander H. Stephens, 270 

The Future of America, . . Daniel Webster, . . 289 

The Glory and Grandeur of Peace, Charles Sumner, . . 146 

The Good of It, .... Dinah Mulock Craik, . 136 

The Knocking at the Gate, in Macbeth, Thomas De Quincey, . 234 

The Leak in the Dike, . . . Phcebe Cary, . . 197 

The Legend of the Two Kings, . Bobert Colly er, . . 225 

The Lost Arts Wendell Phillips, . . 277 

The Minute Man of the Revolution, Geo. Wm. Curtis, . 265 

The Music of the Telegraph Wires, Henry D. Thoreau, . 180 

The Nobility of Labor, . . . Thomas Carlyle, . . 116 

The Noble Purposes of Eloquence, 70 

The Passions, ..... William Collins, . . 268 

The Power of Words, . . . Edwin G. Whipple, . 223 

The Pulpit and Politics, . . Charles H Parkhurst, . 252 

The Puritans, 298 

" The Revenge," Alfred Tennyson, . 191 

The Scholar in Public Life, . . Chauncey M. Depew, . 238 

The Sea, M. J. Michelet, . . 188 

The Service of Art, . . . George Eliot, . . 88 

The Seven Days, .... Frances L. Mace, . 107 



6 



Contents. 



The Souls of Books, 

The Statue, 

The Town-Pump, 

The Trees in Winter, 

The Waters and the Shadow, 

The Wine-Cup, 

Time, .... 

Times Go by Turns, 

To-day and To-morrow, . 

Triplet and Family, 

True Statesmanship, 

Walter Scott, . 

Washington's Farewell Address 

Wild Weather Outside, . 

Words on Language, 



Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 



Nathaniel Hawthorne, 
Florence Griswold, 
Victor Hugo, 



. F. W. Bobertson, 

. Robert Southwell, . 

. Gerald Massey, 

. Charles Beade, 

. Edmund Burke, . 

. John W. Chadwick, 
to the People of the U. S., 

. Margaret E. Sangster, , 

. Oliver Wendell Holmes, 



PAGE 

251 

288 
304 
206 
213 
177 
254 
264 
126 
110 
267 
230 
75 
142 
287 



Some Practical Suggestions. 

An Appeal from the Vowels 333 

The Air You Breathe, 330 

The Art of Expression, 327 

The English Language, . . . Joseph E. Worcester, . 329 



SUGGESTIONS TO TEAOHEES. 



The ability to read well is a very different thing from the 
ability to teach reading, as nearly all teachers not specially 
trained for the work have proved by experience. The 
object of this compilation is to furnish a simple — and con- 
sequently practical — text-book which shall be a genuine 
help in this direction. 

It is no easy task to convey by printed words that which 
requires the living voice for its exemplification; moreover, 
as Elocution is not an " exact science/' it is impossible to 
specify an unvarying plan of instruction. In this particu- 
lar branch, more than in any other, judgment, ingenuity 
and taste are called into requisition. 

Beading should not be entirely taught by imitation, 
though this is frequently the only method at the command 
of the teacher. Such a process destroys all originality of 
style, and generally prevents all originality of thought. 

One cause of the disagreeable styles of reading so com- 
mon in schools, is the failure to connect sound and sense. 
Speaking is the utterance of original ideas; reading, the 
utterance of the ideas of others. So far as the thoughts 
of another are expressed by the reader as the speaker would 
himself utter them, so far it is good reading. But when 
this expression is in poetical, dramatic or oratorical form — 
in other words, when the style becomes more beautiful, 
more intense, or more exalted than that of our ordinary. 



8 Suggestions to Teachers. 

conversation — something more is necessary than the direc- 
tion, "Bead as you talk." An apt response to such direc- 
tion would be, " I do not talk, or hear anybody else talk, 
in that style; therefore I do not know how to read it." It 
is just here that the more difficult and artistic work of Elo- 
cution is to be done. By use of the examples illustrating 
certain styles and different degrees of force, pitch, time, 
etc., the imagination, judgment and taste of the student 
are educated, and he can apply to any selection the prin- 
ciples which he has learned in detached lines and sentences. 

For this is needed not only intellectual comprehension 
of what is to be read, but ability to produce the tones 
suitable for its expression. This last is wholly dependent 
upon physical development. Every student can readily 
understand that Byron's "Apostrophe to the Ocean" needs 
the orotund quality of voice; the "Death and Burial of 
Little Nell," soft force; " Thanatopsis," low pitch, while 
perhaps not one in fifty can produce these variations. It 
is for the cultivation of this physical power that the Vocal 
Exercises are given. 

An adequate supply of breath, and a proper manner of 
using it, are matters of the first importance in all vocaliza- 
tion. As well expect to reap a harvest before seed-sowing, 
or to wear a garment before the material for it is manu- 
factured, as to produce a good tone of voice from a scanty 
amount of breath, or without muscular action of the 
natural breathing apparatus. So important is this matter 
and so comprehensive in all its bearings, that it is fully 
considered elsewhere in the book in an article originally 
written by the compiler for a physiological magazine. Its 
statements are urged upon the attention and thought of 
teachers and pupils alike. 

It is suggested that a few minutes of each reading lesson 



Suggestions to Teachers. 9 

be given to the Vocal Exercises, selections from them being 
made at the discretion of the teacher. As the greatest 
obstacle to success in the rendering of these detached 
passages is timidity and lack of confidence on the part of 
the pupil, it will be well to let concert reading precede in- 
dividual effort. 

Singing cannot be properly taught without due attention 
to position, breathing and articulation, and no recitation — 
however correct in its facts — can be acceptably given with- 
out reference to these same matters. It is a self-evident 
truth that all the vocal work of the school-room should be 
done on the same elocutionary principles as are applied to 
the reading lessons. It is well to combine elocutionary and 
musical drill, as in production of tone; monotone (or hold- 
ing a note) with different degrees of force and pitch; in- 
tervals and slides of the scale; chords; reading up and 
down the scale (one word on each note), and innumerable 
variations which will occur to the ingenious teacher. Such 
exercises give novelty, and consequently increased interest 
to the work, while improving the clearness, strength, 
flexibility and melody of the speaking aiid reading voice. 

The ability to read well an ordinary newspaper or maga- 
zine article is more desirable than the power to recite a 
few dramatic poems — if one cannot possess both. Yet it 
is often the case that the student who can render " Barbara 
Frietchie" or 6i Sheridan's Ride" with good effect makes 
wretched work of an essay on the fine arts, or an editorial 
on the tariff. This plain reading as it is called, is in 
reality a test of the reader's ability. He is left entirely de- 
pendent upon the simplest principles of his art — a correct 
habit of breathing, distinct articulation, accurate empha- 
sis and avoidance of monotony. There is no variety, no 
rhyme or rhythm, no stirring incident, no dramatic spirit, 



10 Suggestions to Teachers. 

as in the animated poem, which can help to hide any 
deficiency. 

For this reason there is no more practical and profitable 
elocutionary exercise than reading aloud the items of news 
and the editorials of the daily paper, a copy being handed 
from one pupil to another, each being required to read 
without preparation or previous acquaintance with the 
subject. 

Shakespeare's plays are published in so many cheap and 
convenient forms, that no extracts have been made from 
them. They can be profitably used in connection with 
this book. 



Physical Exercises. 11 



PHYSICAL EXEECISES. 

If teachers will drill their classes for fifteen minutes 
every day in the following exercises they will be surprised 
to find how much benefit will be derived: 

1. Sitting position. 

2. Poise forward and backward. 

3. Standing position. 

4. Body bend forward and backward. 

5. Body bend right and left. 

6. Active and passive chest. 

7. Percussion of chest. 

8. Percussion with arm movements. 

9. Chest expansion, arm movements. 

10. Shoulder movements. 

11. Shoulder movements with bent arms. 

12. Circular movements with bent arms. 

" The ancient Greeks paid the same attention to physical 
as to mental training. The monuments in art, science, 
and language which have come down to us, more than con- 
firm the wisdom of their educational methods. We praise 
and copy their statuary, but seem to forget that the models 
for these classical figures were furnished by their system of 
physical training. We go back to them to-day for our 
great exemplars in oratory. But which of our institutions 
will carry us through the drill which made these men such 
consummate masters of their art?" 



12 Vocal Exercises. 



VOCAL EXEECISES. 

[The exercises in the following Tables are explained elsewhere, being arranged 
in tabular form for convenience in reference and use. They can be effectively 
practiced with the vowel sounds. It is suggested that such practice always 
precede that of words and sentences, so that the work may be as mechanical as 
possible; the whole attention being given to the physical exercise, rather than 
to the expression of any meaning.] 

TABLE FIRST. 

1. Effusive breathing; in form of letter H. 

2. Expulsive breathing; in form of syllable Hoo. 

3. Explosive breathing; in form of syllable Ha! 

4. Pure tone. 

5. Aspirate, or whisper. 

6. Breath tone, or half-whisper. 

7. Sustained tone, or holding a note. 

8. Explosive tone. 

9. Orotund tone. 

10. Orotund and pure, alternated. 

TABLE SECOND. 

1. Radical stress. 

2. Median stress. 

3. Final stress. 

4. Compound stress. 

5. Thorough stress. 

6. Intermittent stress, or tremor. 

7. Monotone. 

8. Rising slides. 

9. Falling slides. 

10. RlSLNG CIRCUMFLEX. 

11. Falling circumflex. 

12. Rising and falling slides in alternation. 



Vocal Exercises. 13 

SLIDES. 

[The following diagrams, which can be transferred to the blackboard, will be 
found convenient for exercises in Monotone, short and long Rising, Falling and 
Circumflex Slides, and all forms of Stress.] 

U/ U/ U/ U/ U/ 

JL\ _ N \ -dL\ ^L\ d*L\ 

STRESS. 

RADICAL. MEDIAN. FINAU 



Effusive. 



Expulsive. 




o 

o 



. ^>^ TREMOR, /\/\/\/\/\y 



THOROUGH. I COMPOUND 



MEASURED SLIDES. 

[In the preceding diagram, the terms Long and Short are used without refer- 
ence to any measurement, Short implying the common, conversational, Whole 
Tone Slide ; Long, any increase in that length. In the diagram following, the 
Slides are arranged in the order of their length.] 



a /\ A A 



/\ 

Monotone. Semi-tone. Whole Tone. Third. Fifth. Octave. 



^n un un U0 



14 Articulation. 



AETICULATION. 

Articulation (articulatus, furnished with joints, distinct) 
depends upon the action of the jaws, palate, tongue and 
lips. The muscles of these organs must act promptly, 
easily and energetically in order to secure distinct articu- 
lation. 

The attention of the student should be directed to the 
manner of forming letters, quite as much as to the sounds 
of the letters. If this is done, and the correct manner of 
formation insisted upon, indistinct and mumbling utter- 
ance will be easily, as well as rapidly, remedied. 

All yowel sounds depend chiefly upon the extent and 
manner of opening the mouth. The consonants depend 
more upon the action of the lips and tongue. For exam- 
ple, Z>, m and jp are formed by closing the lips firmly; d, t, 
I and n, by pressing the tip of the tongue against the roof 
of the mouth, just back of the upper teeth; /and v by 
pressing the upper teeth upon the under lip. Every sound 
in the alphabet can, and should be, so explained and prac- 
ticed. Imperfect articulation should not be tolerated in 
reading or recitation. Analysis of words, that is, emphatic 
articulation of each letter composing them, as well as con- 
stant practice upon the following vowels, consonants and 
combinations, is specially recommended. The lists can be 
indefinitely extended and modified. 

All impediments of speech — not caused by physical mal- 
formation — can be helped and sometimes wholly cured by 
the judicious practice of Articulation. Stammering is 
caused chiefly by lack of strength or flexibility in the mus- 
cles mentioned. 



Vowels and Consonants. 



15 



VOWELS AND CONSONANTS. 



A long . . , 
A Italian. 
A broad . . 
A short. . 
E long 



.Fate. 
.Far. 
.Fall. 
.Fat. 
. Mete. 



Vowel Sounds. 

E short MSt. 

I long Pine. 

I short Pin. 

O long Note. 

O close Move. 

short Not. 



U long..... ...Tube. 

U short Tub. 

U close Full. 

Oi and oy. . . .Boil. 
Ou and ow Bound. 



B 

D 

Ghard.. 
J 



.Babe. 
.Did. 
.Gag. 
.Joy. 



Yocal Consonants. 

L Lull. 

M Maim. 

R Rap. 

Th soft Thine. 

Aspirate Consonants. 



V Valve. 

W Wine. 

Y . Yes. 

Z Zeal. 



Ch 

Csoft 

C hard. . . . 
F 


. .Church. 
. .Cease. 
..Cake. 
. .Fife. 


G soft 

H 

K 

P 


. . .Gem. 
...Hold. 
...Kirk. 
. . .Pipe. 


T Tent. 

S Seal. 

Sh Shine 

Th sharp Thin. 




Final Consonants. 




Band. 
Send. 
Find. 




Check. 
Tight. 
Sport. 


Heart. 
Speak. 
Map. 


Help. 
Drop. 

Cork. 




Consonant Combinations. 




Wrists. 
Guests. 
Lists. 




Hosts. 

Mists. 
Posts. 


Bursts. 
Ghosts. 

Fists. 


Masts. 
Basks. 

Flasks. 




Varied Consonant Combinations 




Arm'dst. 

Scorn'dst. 

Learn'dst. 




Lai 
Th 
He 


igh'st. 
ank'st. 
.p'st. 


Strangl'sl 
Struggl'd 
Handl'st. 


St. 


Blackest. 

Troubl'dst, 

Reward'st. 



EMPHASIS. 



Emphasis, in its usual acceptation, is the force of voice 
laid upon a word to distinguish it from the other words in 
the same sentence. 

As grammatical analysis is often necessary in determining 
emphasis, the student should be able to discriminate between 
simple, compound, complex, and inverted sentences; phrases 
and clauses; words in apposition; subject and predicate. 

It is safe to assume that any word which can be left out 
of a sentence without injury to the sense, is not to be em- 
phasized. Eeduce the sentence to its lowest terms — that is, 
select from it only the words absolutely necessary for the 
expression of the meaning. 

" Let the battle-flags of the brave volunteers, which they 
brought home from the war with the glorious record of 
their victories, be preserved intact." If this sentence is 
read with equal emphasis throughout, it requires a mental 
effort on the part of the reader to discover whether flags, 
volunteers, war, record, or victories, are to be preserved. 

" These poor, terrified men, who, by the way, were all 
foreigners, and who, from their lack of education, could not 
in the least understand the matter, were all severely blamed." 
The point of this sentence is, " These men were blamed." 
That they were " severely blamed" is a fact, though not an 
essential one. That they were "all severely blamed;" that 
they " could not understand the matter" for which they 
were blamed; that their failure to understand was due to 



Emphasis. ' 17 

" their lack of education;" that they were "foreigners;" 
that they were "poor, terrified men," — these are all facts 
which add to and explain, without in the slightest degree 
altering the main statement, " These men were blamed." 
Skill is needed in the disposition of these subordinate and 
comparatively non-essential clauses, in order that the main 
idea shall be the most prominent one. 

In general, the noun and the verb of a sentence are 
emphatic. There are, however, exceptions. For example, 
the first line of the second stanza of the familiar poem, 
" The Burial of Moses," is, " That was the grandest funeral 
that ever passed on earth." The emphasis would naturally 
— if thoughtlessly — be placed upon the word "funeral" as 
the subject of the line. But the whole of the first stanza 
describes the funeral. The fact, then, that it was a, funeral 
is understood. The point of this line is its grandeur; con- 
sequently the emphasis must be transferred from the noun 
to the adjective. 

As a rule, pronouns, adjectives and adverbs are to be 
emphasized when contrast or comparison is intended, or 
when the meaning implied is not fully expressed. Note the 
following examples from "Julius Caesar." 

1. 

" But what of Cicero? Shall we sound Mm f" — as we have sounded 
others. 

2. 

"There is no fear in Mm" — as there is in Caesar. "Let Mm not 
die," — as Caesar dies. 

3. 

" Call it my fear that keeps you in the house," — implying, if she 
did not say, " and not your own." 

4. 

"Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully" 



18 • Emphasis. 

5. 

"I do beseech ye, if ye bear me hard," as you did Caesar. 

6. 

"There is no harm intended to your person, " as there was to 
Caesar's. " To you our swords have leaden points, Mark Antony." 

7. 

" That is enough to satisfy the Senate. But for your private satis- 
faction — ." 

8. 

" These lowly courtesies might fire the blood of ordinary men." I 
am not an ordinary man. 

9. 

" My credit now stands on such slippery ground — ." 

10. 

" Or else were this a savage spectacle." 

11. 

" Thou art the ruins of the noblest man." 

12. 

" Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome." 

13. 

" Speak your griefs softly; I do know you well." 

14. 

"Most noble Caesar! O royal Caesar!" 

15. 

" For I can raise no money by vile means." 

16. 

" A. friendly eye could never see such faults." 

17. 

" Good reasons must of force give place to better." 



Emphasis. 19 

18. 

"Ill spirit, I would hold more talk with theel" 

19. 

Brutus remarks to Cassius, " I shall be glad to learn of noble men." 
Could he more plainly say in words that Cassius is not noble? 

20. 

The words of Cassius, "It is not meet that every nice offense 
should bear his comment," refers not to offenses in general, but to 
small ones in contrast to great. 

[In each of these examples, transfer the emphasis from its proper place to the 
grammatical subject of the sentence, and note the effect.] 



PAUSES AND SLIDES. 

" A pause is often more eloquent than words." 

Emphasis does not entirely depend upon force. It is 
giyen by variations in pauses, time, pitch, and inflections. 
These means must be principally relied on in delicate, ten- 
der, and pathetic passages, the effect of which would be 
entirely destroyed by force, and yet which need a great deal 
of expression. A word or phrase is emphasized by anything 
which attracts attention. 

A Rhetorical pause is one made in reading, but not in 
writing, being necessary for the ear, though not for the 
eye ; as, " You think it just | that he should use his intel- 
lect | to take the bread out of other men's mouths." 

1. 

"We are stewards | of whatever talents are intrusted to us." 

2. 

"Even apparent defeat | assumed the insolence of victory. " 



20 Emphasis. 

3. 

" Habits of mental discipline | are necessary in any system of edu- 
cation." 

4. 

" His comrade | bent to lift him, but the spark of life | had fled." 

5. 

"For he was all the world | to us, that hero | gray and grim." 

6. 

"They show the banners | taken, they tell his battles | won/' 

[In the preceding examples, the insertion of commas would confuse the eye 
while the omission of pauses would be equally confusing to the ear.] 

Punctuation is not to be regarded as an infallible guide 
in the pauses or inflections of the voice. Words and clauses 
in the same grammatical construction are often independent 
in thought. While such are separated merely by commas 
for the assistance of the eye, they must be more decidedly 
separated by the voice for the assistance of the ear. 

"Day by day the blood recedes, the flesh deserts, the 
muscles relax, the sinews grow powerless." 

That each of these clauses embodies a complete thought, 
is proved by the fact that each one can be separately parsed, 
and could be as correctly written in this form: 

" Day by day the blood recedes. The flesh deserts. The 
muscles relax. The sinews grow powerless." 

Bead the sentence aloud in both forms, keeping the voice 
up at the commas, dropping it at the periods, and judge 
which style conveys the clearest and strongest meaning to 
the ear. Moreover, the clauses are of equal importance; 
but, by keeping the voice suspended until the close, the last 
one is made more emphatic than any of the others. 

The same principle is illustrated in the following para- 
graphs: 



Emphasis. 21 

( ' Labor spans majestic rivers, suspends bridges over deep 
ravines, pierces solid mountains, makes the furnace blaze, 
the anvil ring, the wheel turn round, and the town appear." 

" Cobblers abandoned their stalls to give lessons on politi- 
cal economy; blacksmiths suffered their fires to go out, 
while they stirred up the fires of faction; tailors neglected 
their own measures to criticise the measures of govern- 
ment." 

".France arrests the attention; Napoleon rose and seated 
himself on the throne of the Bourbons; he pointed the 
thunder of his artillery at Italy, and she fell before him; he 
levelled his lightning at Spain, and she trembled; he sounded 
the knell of vengeance on the plains of Austerlitz, and all 
Europe was at his feet; he was greater than Caesar; he was 
greater than Alexander." 

The tendency to a "sing-song" or monotonous tone in 
the reading of poetry (caused generally by marking the 
rhythm by the voice without regard to the sense) can be 
remedied by transposing the clauses — putting the lines into 
jjlain prose — thereby making the meaning more prominent 
and destroying the regularity of the accent; as, 

" And once, behind a rick of barley, 
Thus looking out did Harry stand; 
The moon was full and shining clearly, 
And crisp with frost the stubble land." 

Behind a rick of barley, Harry stood, looking out. The 
moon was full; it shone clearly. The stubble land was 
crisp with frost. 



STYLES OF EEADING. 



All Styles of Beading can be grouped under a few general 
heads, with subdivisions expressive of their various modifi- 
cations. No strict classification is possible. For example, 
while all Didactic, Narrative and Descriptive styles are in 
their simplest forms Unemotional; all Noble, Patriotic and 
Impassioned styles more or less Oratorical, the different 
stvles are often blended, and discrimination must be made 
accordingly. A narrative may be unemotional in some 
parts, while descriptive, impassioned, solemn, pathetic, 
humorous, or all of them, in others. As a rule, the pre- 
vailing style of the selection should decide its character. 
Several terms can be used when necessary. A knowledge 
of the style of piece to be read is essential to the student, in 
order that he may decide upon its elocutionary effect. 



In all forms of Vocal exercise, theory is of less con- 
sequence than practice. But it is desirable that the student 
should understand the few technical terms which it is 
necessary to employ in Elocution, and be able to properly 
apply them. This is essential with students who are fitting 
themselves for the profession of teaching. 



Analysis. 



23 



ANALYSIS. 

Styles of Reading. 



t ™ 

Unemotional. 


Oratorical. 


Grave. 


Didactic. 


Noble. 


Solemn. 


Narrative. 


Patriotic. 


Reverential. 


Descriptive. 


Impassioned. 


Pathetic. 


Animated. 


Conversational. 


Humorous. 


Joyous. 


Dramatic. 
Qualities of Voice. 


Comic. 



Pure. 

Orotund. 

Guttural. 



Oral. 

Nasal. 
Falsetto. 



Aspirate. 



Force. 



r 

Kind. 


Degree. 


Place or Stress. 


Effusive. 


Very soft. 


Radical. 


Expulsive. 
Explosive. 


Soft. 
Medium. 


Median. 
Final. 




Loud. 


Thorough. 




Very loud. 


Compound. 
Intermittent. 


Time. 


Pitch. 


Slides. 


Very slow. 
Slow. 


1 "\ 

Very low. 
Low. 


Monotone. 
Semitone. 


Medium. 


Medium. 


Wholetone. 


Quick. 
Very quick. 


High. 
Very high. 


Third. 
Fifth. 
Octave. 
Circumflex. 



24 Analysis. 

Practical Application of Analysis. 

1. 

" O'er all the peaceful world the smile of heaven lies." 

Descriptive style, Pure quality, Medium, Expulsive force, Median stress, 
Medium time, Medium pitch, Whole Tone slide. 

2. 

" For I am poor and miserably old." 

Pathetic style, Pure quality, Soft, Effusive force, Tremor, Slow time, Low 
pitch, Semi-tonic slide. 

3. 

" Sound drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully." 

Joyous style, Orotund quality, Loud, Expulsive force, Radical stress, Quick 
time, High pitch, Whole Tone slide. 

4. 

" Hail, holy light! offspring of heaven first-born!" 

Noble style, Orotund quality, Medium, Expulsive force, Median stress, Me- 
dium time, Medium pitch, Whole Tone slide. 

5. 

" At midnight in the forest shades — ." 

Descriptive style, Aspirate quality, Soft, Effusive force, Median stress, Slow 
time, Low pitch, Monotone. 

6. 

"You must attend to the business at once." 

Didactic style, Pure quality, Medium, Expulsive force, Radical stress, Medium 
tone, Medium pitch, Whole Tone slide. 

7. 

" There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats." 

Conversational, Pure, Medium, Expulsive, Radical, Medium time, Medium 
pitch, Whole Tone. 

[The preceding examples can be somewhat modified according to individual 
taste.] 



QUALITIES OF VOICE. 



Quality (timhre in Music) is the kind of tone produced by 
the vocal organs. 

All tone has more or less Force, dependent upon the 
manner in which it is produced. The terms Effusive (a 
pouring out), Expulsive (a driving out), and Explosive (a 
bursting out), refer to the Kind or quality of Force. 

[For convenience, examples of Quality of Voice are combined with Kind of 
Force.] 

PUKE. 

Pure Tone is the clear tone in which children talk before 
acquiring bad habits of utterance. It characterizes the 
natural speaking voice when free from defects, and is 
therefore the only Quality of Voice suitable for ordinary 
reading. 

Effusive (Didactic). 

In Effusive Force the breath is effused or given out gently, 
tranquilly and without effort. 

8. 

When the act of reflection takes place in the mind, when we look 
at ourselves in the light of thought, we discover that our life is em- 
bosomed in beauty. Behind us, as we go, all things assume pleasing 
forms, as clouds do far off. The soul will not know either deformity 
or pain. If in the hours of clear reason we should speak the severest 
truth, we should say that we had never made a sacrifice. In these 
hours the mind seems so great that nothing can be taken from it that 
seems much. For it is only the finite that has wrought and suffered; 
the infinite lies stretched in smiling repose. 

Spiritual Laws. — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



26 Qualities of Voice. 

9. 

Thou know'st that through our tears 

Of hasty, selfish weeping 
Comes surer sun ; and for our petty fears 

Of loss, thou hast in keeping 
A greater gain than all of which we dreamed. 

Thou knowest that in grasping 
The bright possessions which so precious seemed 

We lose them; but, if clasping 
Thy faithful hand, we tread with steadfast feet 

The path of thy appointing, 
There waits for us a treasury of sweet 

Delight; royal anointing 
With oil of gladness and of strength! 

Renunciation. — Helen Hunt Jackson. 

Effusive (Narrative). 

10. 

Faith, in the next rooim seems to have wakened from a frightened 
dream, and I can hear voices through the wall. Her mother is sing- 
ing to her and soothing her in the broken words of some old lullaby 
with which Phoebe used to sing Roy and me to sleep years and years 
ago. The unfamiliar, home-like sound is pleasant in the silent 
house. Phoebe on her way to bed is stopping on the garret-stairs to 
listen to it. Even the cat comes mewing up to the door and purring 
as I have not heard the creature purr since the old Sunday-night sing- 
ing, hushed so long ago. 

The Gates Ajar.—EiAZ. Stuart Phelps. 

11. 

Then he sat down still and speechless, 
On the bed of Minnehaha, 
At the feet of Laughing Water, 
At those willing feet that never 
More would lightly run to meet him, 
Never more would lightly follow. 



Qualities of Voice, 27 

With both hands his face he covered. 
Seven long days and nights he sat there; 
As if in a swoon he sat there, 
Speechless, motionless, unconscious 
Of the daylight or the darkness. 

Hiawatha. — Henry W. Longfellow. 

Effusive {Descriptive). 

12. 

It was a mild, serene, midsummer's night; the sky was without a 
cloud; the winds were quiet; the Pleiades, just above the horizon, 
shed their sweet influence in the east. At length the timid approach 
of twilight became more perceptible; the intense blue of the sky 
began to soften; the smaller stars, like little children, went first to 
rest. Hands of angels, hidden from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery 
of the heavens; the glories of night dissolved into the glories of 
dawn. 

Sunrise. — Edward E v erett. 

13. 

All sights were mellowed and all sounds subdued; 

The hills seemed farther, and the streams sang low; 
As in a dream the distant woodman hewed 

His winter log, with many a muffled blow. 
The sentinel cock upon the hill-side crew, 

Crew thrice, and all was stiller than before, 
Silent, till some replying warder blew 

His alien horn, and then was heard no more. 

The Closing Scene. — Thomas Buchanan Read. 

Expulsive {Didactic). 

In Expulsive Force the breath is expelled, or driven out 
forcibly, with the amount of effort naturally made in speech 
and in ordinary reading. It is, therefore, the most common 
kind of force. 



28 Qualities of Voice. 

14. 

Natural history may, I am convinced, take a profound hold upon 
practical life by its influence over our finer feelings. To a person 
uninstructed in natural history, his country or seaside stroll is a walk 
through a gallery filled with wonderful works of art, nine tenths of 
which have their faces turned to the wall. Teach him something of 
natural history, and you place in his hands a catalogue of those which 
are worth turning round. Surely our innocent pleasures are not so 
abundant in this life, that we can afford to despise this or any source 
of them. 

The Value of Science.— 'Prof. T. H. Huxley. 

15. 

All are architects of Fate, 

Working in these walls of Time; 
Some with massive deeds and great, 

Some with ornaments of rhyme. 
For the structure that we raise 

Time is with materials filled; 
Our to-days and yesterdays 

Are the blocks with which we build. 

The Builders.— Henry W. Longfellow. 

Expulsive {Narrative). 

16. 

The Major sat down at his accustomed table, and while the waiters 
went to bring him his toast and his newspaper, he surveyed hie 
letters through his gold double eye-glass, examined one pretty note 
after another and laid them by in order. There were large solemn 
dinner cards, suggestive of three courses and heavy conversation; 
there were neat little confidential notes, and a note from a marquis, 
written on thick official paper. Having perused them the Major 
took out his pocket-book to see on what days he was disengaged, and 
which of these many hospitable calls he could afford to accept or 
decline. 

Pendennis. -Wm. M. Thackeray. 



Qualities of Voice. 29 

17. 

A dewdrop falling on the wild sea wave 
Exclaimed in fear, "I perish in this grave!" 
But, in a shell received, that drop of dew 
Unto a pearl of marvellous beauty grew ; 
And, happy now, the grace did magnify, 
Which thrust it forth, as it had feared, to die, 
Until again, " I perish quite," it said, 
Torn by rude diver from its ocean bed. 
O unbelieving! so it came to gleam 
Chief jewel in a monarch's diadem. 

The Dewdrop. — Kichard C. Trench. 



Expulsive (Descrip 

18. 

in that quarter of London in which Golden Square is situated, 
there is a bygone, faded, tumble-down street, with two irregular rows 
of tall, meager houses, which seem to have stared each other out of 
countenance years ago. The very chimneys appear to have grown 
dismal and melancholy, from having had nothing better to look 
at than the chimneys over the way. The fowls who peck about 
the kennels, jerking their bodies hither and thither with a gait which 
none but town fowls are ever seen to adopt, are perfectly in keeping 
with the crazy habitations of their owners. Dingy, ill-plumed' drowsy 
flutterers, sent, like many of the neighboring children, to get a liveli- 
hood in the streets, they hop from stone to stone in forlorn search of 
some hidden eatable in the mud, and can scarcely raise a crow among 
them, 

Nicholas NicHehy. — Charles Dickens, 

19. 

The skies are blue above my head, 

The prairie green below, 
And flickering o'er the tufted grass 

The shifting shadows go. 
Far in the East, like low-hung clouds 

The waving woodlands lie; 
Far in the West, the glowing plain 

Melts warmly in the sky: 



30 Qualities of Voice. 

No accent wounds the reverent air, 

No foot-print dints the sod. 
Lone in the light the prairie lies 

Rapt in a dream of God. 

Pike County Ballads. — John Hay. 

Expulsive {Conversational). 
20. 

Truly we public characters have a tough time of it! And among 
all the town officers chosen at March meeting, where is he that sus- 
tains, for a single year, the burden of such manifold duties as are 
imposed upon the Town Pump? The title of "town treasurer" is 
rightfully mine, as guardian of the best treasure that the town has. 
The overseers of the poor ought to make me their chairman, since 1 
provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to him that pays 
taxes. I am at the head of the fire department, and one of the 
physicians to the board of health. As a keeper of the peace, all 
water-drinkers will confess me equal to the constable. I perform 
some of the duties of the town clerk, by promulgating public notices, 
when they are pasted on my front. To speak within bounds, I am 
the chief person of the municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an ad- 
mirable pattern to my brother officers, b} r the cool, steady, upright, 
downright, and impartial discharge of my business, and the constancy 
with which I stand to my post. 

A Bill from the Town Pump. — Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

21. 

"Great praise the Duke of Marlboro' won, 

And our good Prince Eugene." 
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing," 

Said little Wilhelmine. 
c< And everybody praised the Duke 

Who this great fight did win." 
" But what good came of it at last?" 

Quoth little Peterkin. 
" Why, that I cannot tell," said he, 

" But 'twas a famous victory." 

The Battle of Blenheim. — Robert Southey. 



Qualities of Voice. 31 



Explosive. 

In Explosive Force the breath is exploded, or given out 
suddenly, with a jerking or bursting effect. It is the most 
abrupt, violent and least used of the three kinds of force, 
being employed only in shouting, military command, and 
the expression of great anger or indignation. It is pro- 
duced by vigorous action of the abdominal muscles, and 
should never be given from the chest, such effort being un- 
natural and hurtful. When properly taken there is no 
better exercise for the development of the abdominal 
muscles, but caution is necessary in its use. 

22. 

You rely upon the mildness of my temper, you play upon the 
meekness of my disposition! But mark! I give you six hours and a 
half to consider this. If you then agree, without any condition, to 
do everything oh earth that I choose, why I may, in time, forgive 
you. If not, don't enter the same hemisphere with me; don't dare 
to breathe the same air, or use the same light. I'll disown you! I'll 
disinherit you! I'll never call you Jack again! 

The Rivals. — Richard Brinsley Sheridan. 

23. 

Deserted! cowards! traitors! Set me free! 
But for a moment! I relied on you; 
Had I relied upon myself alone 
I had kept them still at bay! I kneel to you. 
Let me but loose a moment, if 'tis only 
To rush upon your swords, 

Virginius. — Sheridan Knowles, 



32 Qualities of Voice. 



OKOTTOD. 

The Orotund {ore rotundo, round mouth) is the fullest 
and-grandest tone the voice is capable of producing, " the 
highest perfection of the human voice." The term is used 
by the poet Horace in describing the flowing eloquence of 
the Greeks. It is as natural as the Pure tone, or ordinary 
speaking voice, though not so common, being suitable only 
for the expression of grand, solemn and powerful emotions. 

The vowel is an orotund sound, requiring the mouth to 
be opened to its fullest extent, and consequently possessing 
great resonance. The vowels A, E and I, on the contrary, 
requiring but a slight opening of the mouth, are compara- 
tively thin, flat sounds. 

For practice upon the Orotund, pronounce the vowel 
in the natural way, as forcibly as possible; then without in 
the least changing the position of the mouth, pronounce the 
long and the short sounds of the vowels A, E and I, and 
words containing these sounds. Although the tones pro- 
duced so mechanically will at first sound unnatural and 
possibly absurd, that effect will disappear as the muscles 
become more flexible with practice. It will be found that 
such exercises require the most thorough action of the vocal 
organs, and are therefore of the greatest benefit. 

It must be borne in mind that the difference between the 
Pure and Orotund is one of Quality, not of Force or of 
Pitch, although, owing to the greater resonance of the Oro- 
tund, it sounds both louder in Force and lower in Pitch. 
It is the same difference which exists between a piano and 
an organ, a flute and a trumpet, when precisely the same 
note is produced on each. 

[It is suggested that practice upon the Orotund be limited at first to single 
pounds, words, and phrases, its application to entire sentences belonging more 
to the advanced and artistic, than to the simple and practical work of Elocu- 
tion.] 



Qualities of v oice. 33 

Effusive Orotund. 
24. 

What, thought I, is this vast assemblage of sepulchers but a 
treasury of humiliation; a huge pile of reiterated homilies on the 
emptiness of renown, and the certainty of oblivion? Tt is, indeed, 
the empire of Death ; his great and shadowy palace ; where he sits in 
state, mocking at the relics of human glory, and spreading dust and 
forgetfulness on the monuments of princes. 

How idle a boast, after all, is the immortality of a name! Time is 
ever silently turning over his pages. We are too much engrossed by 
the story of the present to think of the character and anecdotes that 
gave interest to the past; and each age is a volume thrown aside to 
be speedily forgotten. The idol of to-day pushes the hero of yester- 
day out of our recollection; and will, in turn, be supplanted by his 
successor of to-morrow. 

Westminster Abbey. — Washington Irving. 

25, 

God, who with thunders and great voices kept 

Beneath thy throne, — yet at will, has swept 

All back, all back (said he in Patmos placed), 

To till the heavens with silence of the waste 

Which lasted half-an-hour! — Lo, I who have wept 

All day and night, beseech thee by my tears 

And by that dread response of curse and groan 

Men alternate across these hemispheres, 

Vouchsafe us such a half -hour's hush alone 

In compensation for our stormy years! 

As heaven has paused from song, let earth from moan. 

Heaven and Earth. — Eliz. Barrett Brownino. 

Expulsive Orotund. 

26. 

Working-men, walk worthy of your vocation! You have a nobl6 
escutcheon; disgrace it not. Stoop not from your lofty throne to 
defile vnurseives by contamination with any form of evil. Labo 



34 Qualities of Voice. 

allied with virtue, may look up to heaven and not blush, while all 
worldly dignities, degraded to vice, will leave their owner without a 
corner of the universe in which to hide his shame. Be ye sure of this, 
that the man of toil, who works in a spirit of obedient loving homage, 
does no less than cherubim and seraphim in their loftiest flights and 
holiest songs. 

The Dignity of Labor.— Kev. Newman Hall. 

27. 

And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad, 

Who called you forth from night and utter death, 

From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 

Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 

Forever shattered, and the same forever? 

Who gave you your invulnerable life, 

Your strength, your speed, your fury, and your joy, 

Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? 

And who commanded and the silence came, — 

"Here let the billows stiffen and have rest." 

Hymn to Mont Blanc. — Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

Explosive Orotund. 

28. 

These abominable principles, and this more abominable avowal of 
them, demand the most decisive indignation. I call upon that right 
reverend and this most learned bench, to vindicate the religion of 
their God, to defend and support the justice of their country. I call 
upon the honor of your lordships to reverence the dignity of your 
ancestors, and maintain your own. I call upon the spirit and 
humanity of my country to vindicate the national character. 

The American War. — Lord Chatham. 

29. 

Ye crags and peaks, I'm with you once again! 
O sacred forms, how proud you look! 
How high you lift your heads into the sky! 
How huge you are, how mighty and how free I 



Qualities of Voice. 85 

Ye guards of liberty, 
I'm with you once again! I call to you 
With all my vcice! I hold my hands to you 
To show they still are free. I rush to you 
As though I could embrace you ! 

William Tell. —Sheridan KNOWiiEk 

ASPIRATE. 

The Aspirate Quality or Whisper is used in reading only 
on certain words, and its use is a matter of taste, preference 
being usually given to the Breath tone, or Half -whisper. 

The exercise of Whispering demands frequent and ener- 
getic inspiration, and forcible expiration of the breath, as 
well as great accuracy in articulation. It is therefore 
specially valuable in the development of the vocal organs, 
provided that it is properly performed, the impetus to the 
breath being given by the abdominal muscles. 

The exercise is recommended for concert drill in classes, 
as well as for individuals, though being naturally exhaust- 
ing when prolonged, it should be judiciously used. It can 
be practiced with each Kind and Degree of Force. The 
Aspirate quality is the natural expression of vagueness, 
wonder, mystery, impatience, disgust, secresy and fear. 

[The following exercises are to be practiced with the Whisper and the Half- 
whisper.] 

Effusive. 

30. 

All heaven and earth are still, though not in sleep, 
But breathless as we grow when feeling most; 
And silent as we stand in thoughts too deep. 

Childe Harold. — Bykon. 



36 Qualities of Voice. 

Expulsive. 
31. 

Soldiers ! You are now within a few paces of the enemy's out- 
posts! Let every man keep the strictest silence under pain of 
instant death. 

Explosive. 

32. 

Hark! I hear the bugles of the enemy! They are on the march! 
For the boats! Forward! 



FAULTY QUALITIES. 

[It is not necessary to explain at length the various qualities of Impure, or 
Faulty tones. These result from incorrect habits of breathing, wrong use of the 
throat and imperfect articulation. They serve to express disagreeable and 
artificial emotions. 

Illustrations are given to show the use that can be made of them by the pro- 
fessional elocutionist, but the exercises are not recommended for the general 
student. So far as he possesses the faults which they illustrate, it will be well to 
employ them for the purpose of correction.] 



Guttural. 

The Guttural Quality (guttur, the throat) is the deep, 
rasping sound emitted from the larynx. It expresses loath- 
ing, rage, reyenge, and extreme horror. 



33. 

How like a fawning publican he looks! 

I hate him for he is a Christian. 

If I can catch him once upon the hip 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 

Cursed be my tribe if I forgive him! 

Merchant of Venice. — Shakespeare. 



Qualities of Voice. 37 



Oral. 

The Oral Quality {oris, the mouth) is the mouthing 
tone, resulting from slovenly articulation, particularly when 
caused by affectation or indolence. It is used to represent 
the tones of a fop or an affected fine lady. 

34. 

Bwightou is filling fast now. You see dwoves of ladies evewy day 
on horseback, widing about in all diwections. There are two or 
thwee always will laugh when I meet them — they do weally. I fancy 
they wegard me with interest. 

Lord Dundee ary. 

Nasal. 

The Nasal Quality (nasus, the nose) is produced by forc- 
ing the breath into the nose before it leaves the mouth, 
thereby depriving the tone of its clearness and roundness, 
giving it a sharp, twanging effect. It is a common fault 
with those who in speaking or reading do not open the 
mouth sufficiently. It is used in imitation of the qualify 
of voice which prevails in certain localities. 

35. 

But the deacon swore (as deacons do, 

With an " I dew vum" or an "I tell yeou,") 

He would build one shay to beat the taown 

'N the keounty'n' all the kentry raoun'; 

It should be so built that it could'n' break daown— 

" Fur," said the deacon, " t's mighty plain 

That the weakes' place raus' stan' the strain; 

'N' the way t' fix it uz I maintain 

Is only jest 
T' make that uz strong uz the rest." 

The One Ross Shay. — Oliver Wekdell Holmes. 



38 Degrees of Force. 

Falsetto. 
The Falsetto Quality is produced when the natural voice 
breaks or gets beyond its compass. It has little volume or 
resonance, and is, consequently, a weak tone suitable for the 
expression of sickness, childishness, and old age. 

36. 

There was a silence for a little while; then an old man replied in a 
thin, trembling voice, "Nicholas Yedder, why he's been dead and 
gone these eighteen years. There was a wooden tombstone in the 
churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that's gone too." 

Bip Van Winkle. —Washington Irving. 

DEGKEES OP FORCE. 

[There can be various Degrees of one Kind of Force. Very Soft Effusive is as 
soft as possible. Soft Effusive is only a little softer than the ordinary speaking 
voice, which is naturally Expulsive, as we seldom talk either in Effusive or Ex- 
plosive tones. Loud force can be either Expulsive or Explosive. Very loud 
force naturally becomes Explosive.] 

Soft (piano in Music) and Very Soft (pianissimo) Degrees 
of Force, express subdued, tender, and pathetic emotions. 
Selection between these two degrees depends upon the taste 
of the reader. 

Very Soft. 

37. 

It was a night of holy calm, when the zephyr sways the young 
spring leaves, and whispers among the hollow reeds its dreamy 
music. No sound was heard but the last sob of some weary wave 
telling its story to the smooth pebbles of the beach, and then all was 
still as the breast when the spirit has departed. 

Spartacus to the Gladiators. — Elijah Kellogg. 

Soft. 

38. 

No stir, no sound! The shadows creep. 
The old and young in common trust, 
Are lying down to wait, asleep, 



Degrees of Force. 89 

While Life and Joy will come to keep 

With Death and Pain what tryst they must. 
O faith! for faith almost too great! 
Come slow, O day of evil freight! 
O village hearts, sleep well, sleep late! 

The Village Lights. — Helen Hunt Jackson. 

Medium. 

Medium or Moderate Force (mezzo piano in Music) char- 
acterizes the natural speaking voice, and is therefore appro- 
priate for all ordinary reading. 

39. 

Not many of us can ever behold even the outside of a palace ; it is 
a rare person who ever gets to the inside of one. With the advantages 
of birth, rank, station, power, a man might not in the actual world 
meet with a sublime soul once in a hundred years, yet through the 
mediation of Shakespeare we can change a few quiet hours into 
companionship with souls more choice than we could meet with in 
experience if we lived for centuries. 

Human Life in Shakespeare. — Henry Giles, 

Loud {forte in Music) and Very Loud {fortissimo) Degrees 
of Force express strong emotions. 

Loud. 

40. 

Press on! surmount the rocky steeps, 

Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch; 
He fails alone who feebly creeps; 

He wins who dares the hero's march. 
Be thou a hero ! let thy might 

Tramp on eternal snows its way, 
And through the ebon walls of night, 

Hew down a passage unto day. 

Press On.— Park Benjamin. 



40 Stress. 

Very Loud. 

41. 

Thy dazzled eye 
Beholds this man in a false glaring light 
Which conquest and success have thrown upon him; 
Dids't thou but view him right, thou'dst see him black 
With murder, treason, sacrilege and — crimes 
That strike my soul with horror but to name them. 
And as I love my country, millions of worlds 
Should never buy me to be like that Caesar! 

Cato. — Joseph Addison. 

STEESS. 

The term Stress refers not to the Kind or Degree of 
Force, but to the manner of applying it to a word or syl- 
lable. 

[Proper application of Stress, though adding incalculably to expression in 
reading, is less important than correct Quality of Voice, suitable degrees of 
Time, Pitch, and Slides, and intelligent Emphasis. It is more a finish and orna- 
ment to reading than an essential element ; therefore, a less practical matter 
than those referred to. 

Practice upon all forms of Stress— with single sounds — is specially recom- 
mended for development of the voice ; but skill is needed in the application of 
Stress to entire sentences, except in the case of Expulsive Radical, which 
characterizes the ordinary speaking voice. It is therefore suggested that unless 
sufficient progress has been made in more practical and necessary subjects, in- 
struction and practice upon Stress be limited to single sounds and words.] 



EADICAL STRESS. 

Eadical or Initial Stress {diminuendo in Music) is 
placed, as its name indicates, upon the radix, root, or be- 
ginning of the word. It is illustrated by the blow of a 
hammer, the striking of a bell, or a clock. It exists in the 
utterance of all sounds which convey abrupt or startling 
emotions. It belongs also in less violent degree to the 



Stress. 41 

natural speaking voice, giving clearness and decision to the 
utterance, and is the most common form of Stress. 

Expulsive Radical. 

42. 

If I should confess the truth there is no mere earthly immortality 
that I envy so much as the poet's. If your name is to live at all, it is 
so much more to have it live in people's hearts than only in their 
brains! I don't know that one's e} r es rill with tears when he thinks 
of the famous inventor of logarithms, but a song of Burns's or a 
hymn of Charles Wesley's goes straight to your heart, and you can't 
help loving both of them, the sinner as well as the saint. 

The Poet at the Breakfast Table. — Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

43. 

Man is his own star, and the soul that can 
Render an honest and a perfect man 
Commands all light, all influence, all fate; 
Nothing to him falls early or too late. 
Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, 
Our fatal shadows that walk by us still. 
Honest Man's Fortune. — Beaumont and Fletcher. 

Explosive Radical. 

44. 

Long since, Catiline, ought the Consul to have ordered thee to 
execution, and brought upon thine own head the ruin thou hast been 
meditating against others. There was that virtue once in Rome that 
a wicked citizen was held more execrable than the deadliest foe. We 
have a law still, Catiline, for thee. Think not that we are powerless 
because forbearing. And should I order thee to be instantly seized 
and put to death, I make just doubt whether all good men would not 
think it done rather too late than any man loo cruelly. 

Oration against Catiline. — Cicero. 



42 Stress. 

45. 

If thou speak'st false ! 
Upon the next tree shalt thou hang alive 
Till famine cling thee! Arm, arm, and out! 
If this which he avouches doth appear 
There is do flying hence nor tarrying here! 
Ring the alarum bell! blow wind! come w T rack! 
At least we'll die with harness on our back! 

Macbeth. — Shakespeare. 

MEDIAN STRESS. 

Median Stress (swell in Music) is placed upon the middle 
of the sound. It is the most agreeable form of Stress, and 
therefore best adapted to the expression of harmonious 
ideas. It imparts a certain smoothness to the whole sen- 
tence, giving a gliding and graceful, not broken and jerky 
movement. " Median Stress is more or less a conscious and 
intentional effect, prompted and sustained by the will. It 
is the natural utterance of those emotions which allow the 
intermingling of reflection and sentiment with expression, 
and purposely dwell on sound as a means of enhancing the 
effect." — Russell. 

Effusive Median. 

46. 

April, the singing month! Many voices of many birds call for res- 
urrection over the graves of flowers, and they come forth opening 
and glorified. You have not lost what God has only hidden. You 
lose nothing in struggle, in trial, in bitter distress. If called to shed 
thy joys as trees their leaves ; if the affections be driven back into 
the heart as the life of flowers to their roots, be patient. Thou shalt 
lift up thy leaf-covered boughs again. When it is February April is 
not far off. 

The Death of our Almanac. — Kev. Henry Ward Beecher. 



Stress. 43 

47. 

Leaves have their time to fall, 
And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, 

And stars to set; but all 
Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death! 

We know when moons shall wane, 
When summer birds from far shall cross the sea, 

When autumn's hue shall tinge the golden grain, 
But who shall teach us when to look for thee ! 

The Hour of Death. — Mrs. Hemans. 

Expulsive Median. 

48. 

Enrich and embellish the universe as you will, it is only a temple for 
the heart that loves truth with a supreme love. The laws of nature 
are sublime, but there is a moral sublimity before which the highest 
intelligences must kneel and adore. Scientific truth is marvelous, but 
moral truth is divine, and whoever breathes its air and walks by its 
light has found the lost paradise. 

Education. — Horace Mann. 

49. 

For oh, this world and the wrong it does! 

They are safe in heaven with their backs to it, 
The Michaels and Rafaels, you hum and buzz 

Round the works of, you of the little wit. 
Do their eyes contract to the earth's old scope 

Now that they see God face to face? 
They have all attained to be poets, I hope, 

'Tis their holiday now, in any case. 

Old Pictures in Florence. — Robert Browning. 

FINAL STRESS. 

Final, Vanishing or Terminal Stress {crescendo in Music) 
is placed upon the end of the sound. 



44 Stress. 

Effusive Final. 
Effusive Final Stress expresses pleading and yearning. 

50. 

Oh, the blissful meeting to come one day 
When the spirit slips out of its house of clay; 
When the standers by, with a pitying sign 
Shall softly cover this face of mine: 
And I leap — ah, whither? who can know? 
But outward, onward as spirits go. 
Until eye to eye without fear I see 
God and my lost, as they see me. 

The Three Meetings.— D. M. Craig. 

Expulsive Final. 
Expulsive Pinal Stress expresses doggedness, scorn and 
great determination. 

51. 

"Brutus, bay not me! I'll not endure it! 
You forget yourself to hedge me in. 
I am a soldier, I, older in practice, 
Abler than yourself to make conditions." 

Julius Ccesar. — Shakespeare. 

Explosive Final. 

Explosive Final Stress expresses great anger when as- 
sociated with defiance or revenge. 

52. 

Thou slave! thou wretch! thou coward! 
Thou little valiant, great in villainy! 
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! 
Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by, 
To teach thee safety! 

King John.— Shakespeare, 



Stress. 45 



COMPOUND STKESS, 

Compound Stress (for which there is no equivalent in 
Music) is compounded or made of the Kadical and Final 
Stress placed upon the same sound. It is the most dis- 
agreeable form of Stress, being abrupt and snappish in 
character. It is generally used upon words which require the 
circumflex slide, as it expresses complex and varied emotions, 
also great surprise, obstinacy, anger and contempt which is 
sarcastic or mocking, as distinguished from the scorn ex- 
pressed by the Final, 

53. 

What! attribute the sacred sanction of God and Nature to the 
massacres of the Indian scalping-knife? 

The American War. — Lord Chatham 

54. 

Gone to be married ! Gone to swear a peace ! 

False blood to false blood joined! Gone to be friends! 

Shall Lewis have Blanche and Blanche these provinces! 

King John. — Shakespeare, 

55, 

Must I budge? 
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch 
Under your testy humor? By the gods, 
You shall digest the venom of your spleen 
Though it do split you; for, from this day forth, 
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter 
When you are waspish I 

Julius Ccesar.— -Shakespeare, 

THOKOUGH STEESS. 
Thorough or Through Stress (organ tone in Music) is 
placed upon the whole of the sound. It is illustrated by 



46 Stress. 

common street cries, and is chiefly used in shouting or call- 
ing where a full, sustained tone is necessary. It is naturally 
emphatic, hard and uncompromising in effect, and in read- 
ing is used only for the expression of such feeling. " A due 
degree of Median stress in conversation distinguishes the 
man of culture from the boor. The latter speaks with the 
thorough stress." — Monroe. 

56. 

Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, 
And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, 
My body shall make good upon this earth, 
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. 
Thou art a traitor ', and a miscreant; 
Too good to be so, and too bad to live. 

King Richard Second. — Shakespeare. 

INTERMITTENT STEESS. 
Intermittent Stress or Tremor {tremolo in Music) is 
placed brokenly or tremulously upon the sound. It is the 
natural expression of all feeling which is accompanied by a 
weakened physical condition in which the breath comes in 
jets instead of in a continuous stream. It therefore char- 
acterizes the utterance of some forms of fear, joy, excite- 
ment; of thrilling tenderness, sympathy, yearning and 
pathos; of fatigue, grief, sickness and old age. It should 
be used only on certain words and phrases, any excess of it 
entirely spoiling its effect. 

57. 

O God ! to clasp those fingers close, 

And yet to feel so lonely! 
To see a light on dearest brows 
Which is the daylight only! 
Be pitiful, O God! 
The Cry of the Human.— Eliz. Barrett Browning. 



Movement. 47 

58. 

Here I stand, your slave, 
A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man. 

King Lear, — Sh a kespeake. 

59. 

And see! she stirs! she starts — she moves — she seems to feel 

The thrill of life along her keel, 

And spurning with her foot the ground 

With one exulting, joyous bound 

She leaps into the ocean's arms! 

TJie Launching of the Ship. — Longfellow. 

MOVEMENT, 

Movement {time in Music) refers to the rate of utterance^ 
and is one of the most important elements of expression. 
"As an illustration of the power of movement, observe the 
difference between a school-boy gabbling through his task 
in haste to get rid of it, and a great tragedian whose whole 
soul is rapt in the part of Cato, uttering his soliloquy on 
immortality, or Hamlet musing on the great themes of duty, 
life, and death." — Russell. 

[It is suggested that practice upon the exercises in Movement be limited to 
Slow, Medium and Quick, except in individual cases of too slow or too rapid 
utterance.] 

Very Slow. 

Very Slow Movement is the least used, being appropriate 

only for the strongest emotions; as, profound reverence, 

awe, or horror. 

60. 

In thoughts from the visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth 
on men, fear came upon me, and trembling which made all my bones 
to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face ; the hair of my flesh 
stood up; it stood still but I could not discern the form thereof; an 
image was before mine eyes; then was silence, and I heard a voice 



£8 Movement. 

saying, " Shall mortal man be more just than God? shall a man be 
more pure than his Maker?" — Bible. 

Slow. 

Slow Movement characterizes the utterance of repose, 
tenderness, grief, pathos, vastness and great power, 

61. 

So live, that when thy summons comes to join 
The innumerable caravan that moves 
To the pale realms of shade where each shall take 
His chamber in the silent halls of death, 
Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night, 
Scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed 
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave 
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch 
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams. 

Thanatopsis. — Wm. Cullen Bryant. 

Medium. 
Medium or Moderate Movement is used in the ordinary 
speaking voice; consequently, in all ordinary reading. 

62. 

An immortal instinct, deep within the spirit of man, is a sense of 
the beautiful. It is in music, perhaps, that the soul most nearly at- 
tains the great end for which it struggles when inspired by the poetic 
sentiment — the creation of beauty. We are often made to feel, with a 
shivering delight, that from an earthly harp are stricken notes which 
cannot have been unfamiliar to the angels. The old bards and 
minnesingers had advantages which we do not possess, and Thomas 
Moore, singing his own songs, was perfecting them as poems. 

The Poetic Principle. — Edgar Allan Poe. 

Quick. 
Quick Movement is only a little more rapid than Medium, 
and is characteristic of excitement, fear, great earnestness, 
playful or joyous emotions. 



Pitch. 49 

63. 

Now, by the lips of those ye love, fair gentlemen of France, 
Charge for the golden lilies now, upon them with the lance! 
A thousand spurs are striking deep, a thousand spears in rest, 
A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest, 
And in they burst, and on they rushed, while like a guiding star, 
Amid the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. 

The Battle of Ivry. — T. B. Macatjlay. 

Very Quick. 

Very Quick or Rapid Movement is seldom used, Quick 
Movement being generally rapid enough. It expresses great 
haste and extreme terror. 

64. 

Forth from the pass in tumult driven 
Like chaff before the wind of heaven, 

The archery appear! 
For life! for life! their flight they ply, 
And shriek and shout and battle-cry, 
And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
And broadswords flashing to the sky, 

Are maddening in the rear! 

Marmion. — Walter Scott, 

PITCH. 

Pitch, or Modulation {pitch in Music) is the degree of 
elevation of the voice. 

[It is suggested that practice upon the exercises in Pitch, be limited to Low, 
Medium and High.] 

Very Low. 

Very Low Pitch, like Very Slow Movement, is the least 
used, the same class of emotions — profound reverence, awe, 
and horror — being expressed by both. 



50 Pitch. 

65. 

I had a dream that was not all a dream. 

The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars 

Did wander darkling in the eternal space 

Rayless and pathless, and the icy earth 

Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air. 

Darkness. — Lord Byron. 

Low. 

Low Pitch, usually associated with Slow Movement, is 
appropriate to grandeur, solemnity and pathos. 

66. 

They saw the vault covered and the stone fixed down ; then when 
the dusk of evening had come on and not a sound disturbed the 
sacred stillness of the place, — in that calm time when all outward 
things and inward thoughts teem with assurances of immortality, 
and worldly hopes and fears are humbled in the dust before them, — 
then with tranquil and submissive hearts they turned away and left 
the child with God. 

Old Curiosity Shop. — Charles Dickens. 

Medium. 

Medium or Middle Pitch, like Medium Force and Medium 
Movement, belongs to the natural speaking voice, and is 
therefore appropriate for all ordinary reading. 

67. 

History is a voice sounding forever across the centuries the laws of 
right and wrong. Opinions alter, manners change, creeds rise and 
fall, but the moral law is written on the tablets of eternity. Justice 
and truth alone endure and live. Injustice and falsehood may be 
long-lived, but doomsday comes at last to them in French revolutions 
and other terrible ways. 

Ihe Science of History.— J. A. Frotjde. 



Inflections. 51 



High. 

High Pitch, usually accompanying Loud Force and Quick 
Movement, is expressive of excitement, gayety and joy, 

68. 

Break happy laud, into earlier flowers! 

Make music, O bird, in the new-budded bowers! 

Warble, O bugle, and trumpet blare ! 

Flames, on the windy headland flare! 

Clash, ye bells, in the merry March air! 

O joy to the people, and joy to the throne, 

Come to us, love us, and make us your own. 

A Welcome to Alexandra. — Alfred Tennyson. 

Very High. 

Very High Pitch, generally associated with Very Loud 
Force and Very Quick Movement, belongs principally to the 
shouting or calling voice, but is sometimes used to express 
extreme animation or joy. 

69. 

Rejoice, you men of Angiers! ring your bells; 
King John, your king and England's doth approach; 
Open your gates and give the victors way! 

King John.— Shakespeare. 

INFLECTIONS. 

Inflections or Slides are the upward and downward turns 
or bends of the Toice, Expression in speaking or reading 
depends chiefly upon the proper application of Slides. The 
lack of inflection produces the monotony so common in the 
schoolroom and so disagreeable wherever heard. "This 
can be tolerated only in a law paper, a state document, 
bill of lading, or an invoice, in the reading of which the 



52 Inflections. 

mere distinct enunciation of the words is deemed sufficient. 
In other circumstances it kills with inevitable certainty 
everything like feeling or expression." — Russell. 

The main difference between song and speech is that in 
the former the voice rises and falls from note to note by a 
succession of steps. No matter how long a note may be 
held, the pitch does not vary. In speech the voice rises and 
falls in slides, causing a constant variation in pitch. 

As the Emphasis increases, the length of the Slide (either 
upward or downward) increases. An illustration of this 
fact is found in the gradually lengthened inflections of an 
earnest or angry voice as the earnestness or anger increases. 
Children's voices, from their naturalness and spontaneity, 
afford perfect examples of all forms of inflection. 

Observation of the slides into which all voices naturally 
fall in the expression of various emotions (as heard in or- 
dinary conversation) is of great value in the study of this 
subject. Unnatural as some slides sound — particularly the 
circumflex — when applied mechanically to detached exam- 
ples, there is not one of them which is not heard in every- 
day speech. 

The length of Slides in the speaking voice, corresponds to 
the length of the intervals in the musical scale. The scale 
of is selected for illustration, though the principle illus- 
trated applies equally to all scales. 

Monotone. 

The Monotone {one tone) is a tone kept without rising or 
falling upon one degree of pitch, or one note. It corre- 
sponds to the chanting tone in vocal music. It is naturally 
associated with Low Pitch, Slow Time, often with Orotund 
Quality and expresses repose, power, vastness, awe, rever- 
ence and solemnity. 



Inflections. 53 

Monotone is not synonymous with Monotony. The latter 
refers to any kind of repetition, any succession of similar 
sounds which gives sameness to the tone. "Monotone is 
the sublimest poetical effect of elocution; monotony one of 
the worst defects." 

70. 

It is an awful hour when this life has lost its meaning and seems 
shrivelled into a span; when the grave appears to be the end of all 
human goodness but a name, and the sky above this universe merely 
a dead expanse. I know but one way in which a man may come 
forth from such agony; it is by holding fast to those things which 
are certain still — the grand, simple landmarks of morality. Thrice 
blessed is he who, when all is drear and cheerless within and with- 
out, has obstinately clung to moral good. 

Sermon.— Rev. F. W. Robertson. 



71. 

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea; 

The ship was still as she could be. 

Her sails from heaven received no motion. 

Her keel was steady in the ocean. 

Without either sign or sound of their shock, 

The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; 

So little they rose, so little they fell, 

They did not move the Inchcape Bell. 

The Inchcape Bock. — Robert Southey. 



Semitone. 

The Semitone {half-step in Music) the Semitonic, Minor, 
or Chromatic Slide, corresponds to the interval between 
one note and the next half -note above or below; the interval 
between and C sharp, or between Do and Di. It is heard 



54 Inflections. 

in the peevish whine or cry of the child, the voice of the ex- 
hausted invalid, and the tones of the grumbling fault-finder. 
It is also the natural expression of grief, pity, supplication 
and all plaintive emotions. Without this form of inflection 
pathetic effect is entirely lost, but it is often improperly 
placed upon solemn or impressive utterances, giving a 
whining, depressing and most dismal effect to what on the 
contrary should be as exalted and inspiring in tone as in 
sentiment. 

72. 

Oh, what a burial was here! Not as when one is borne from his 
home among weeping throngs, gently carried to the green fields, and 
laid peacefully beneath the turf and flowers. No priest stood to 
pronounce a burial-service. It was an ocean-grave. The mists alone 
shrouded the burial place. Down, clown they sank, and the quick 
returning waters, smoothing out every ripple, left the sea as if it had 
not been. 

The Loss of the Arctic.— Rev. Henry Ward Beecher. 

73. 

And yet he moaned beneath his breath, 
" Oh, come in life, or come in death, 
Olost! my love, Elizabeth!" 

The Brides of Enderby.—JEAS Ingelow. 

74. 

Peace in the clover-scented air, 

And stars within the dome; 
And underneath, in dim repose, 

A plain, New England home. 
Within, a widow in her weeds 

From whom all joy is flown; 
Who kneels among her sleeping babes, 

And weeps and prays alone. 

The Heart of the War.— J. G. Holland. 



Inflections. 55 

Whole To^e. 

The Slide of the Whole Tone, the Common or Conver- 
sational Slide, is the distance between C and D, or Do and 
Re. It characterizes the ordinary speaking yoice and is 
therefore the most frequently used. 

75. 

Gibbon was in his study every morning, winter and summer, at 
six o'clock; Leibnitz was never out of his library; Pascal killed him- 
self by study; Cicero narrowly escaped death from the same cause; 
Milton was at his books with as much regularity as a merchant or an 
attorney. Raphael lived but thirty-seven years, and in that short 
space carried the art of painting so far beyond what it had before 
reached, that he appears to stand alone as a model to his successors. 
Generally speaking, the life of all truly great men has been a life of 

intense labor. 

Labor and Genim. — Sydney Smith. 

76. 

The heifer that lows in the upland farm 

Far heard, lows not thine ear to charm. 

The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 

Deems not that great Napoleon 

Stops his horse, and lists with delight, 

While his files sweep round yon Alpine height. 

Nor knowest thou what argument 

Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 

All are needed by each one — 

Nothing is fair or good alone. 

Each and All. — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

Slide of a Thied. 

The Slide of a Third corresponds to the interval between 
C and E, or Do and Mi. It is used upon words requiring 
more emphasis than is needed in the ordinary speaking 
voice. 



56 Inflections. 

77. 

I tell you that this is to me quite the most amazing among the 
phenomena of humanity. I am surprised at no depths to which, 
when once warped of its honor, humanity can be degraded. But 
this is wonderful to me, — oh, how wonderful! — to see woman with a 
power, if she would wield it, purer than the air of heaven, and 
stronger than the seas of earth, abdicate this majesty, to play at pre- 
cedence with her next-door neighbor. 

Queen s Gardens. — John Rfskin. 

78. 

My liege, your anger can recall your trust, 
Annul my office, spoil me of my lands, 
Rifle my coffers: but my name, my deeds, 
Are royal in a land beyond your sceptre. 

I found France rent asunder: 
The rich men despots, and the poor, banditti; 
Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple. 
I have re-created France; and from the ashes 
Of the old feudal and decrepit carcass, 
Civilization on her luminous wings 
Soars Phoenix-like to Jove! 

EicJieh'eu. — Edward Lyttox Bfxwer. 

Slide of a Fifth. 
The Slide of a Fifth corresponds to the interval between 
C and G, or Do and Sol. 

79. 

Yet this is Rome 
That sat on her seven hills and from her throne 
Of beauty ruled the world! Yet we are Romans! 
Why in that elder day, to be a Roman 
Was greater than a king! And once again — 
Hear me. ye walls, that echoed to the tread 
Of either Brutus ! — once again I swear, 
The Eternal City shall be free! 
Eienzi's Address to the Romans. — Hart Russell Mitford 



Inflections. 57 

Slide of aist Octave. 
The slide of an Octave corresponds to the interval between 
C and C, or Do and Do. 

80. 

" Sir, you have much to confess," roared the General, " and I will 
wring it out of you! If you refuse, I'll shut you up in a dungeon for 
ten years! You are associated with conspirators; you countenanced 
revolution in Florence; you openly took part with Eepublicans. 
Sir, you are in a position of imminent danger. I tell you — beware!" 

The General said this in an awful voice which was meant to strike 
terror into the soul of his captive. 

The Bodge Club. — Prof. James DeMillb. 

Circumflex. 

The preceding Inflections are called Simple, Single, and 
Direct Slides. 

The Circumflex (circum, around; flectere, to bend) or 
Wave, Complex, Double, and Indirect Slide, is a wave or 
turn of the voice, including both a rise and a fall on the same 
syllable; named Kising or Falling according to the termina- 
tion of the Slide. 

Simple facts and questions are stated or asked in simple 
or direct slides. If the fact or question is modified or com- 
plex in any way, the voice indicates it by the Circumflex. 
No inflection is so expressive, the slide itself generally im- 
plying as much as the words upon which it is placed. It is 
the characteristic utterance of doubt, contrast, comparison, 
insinuation, raillery and sarcasm. 

[The Circumflex is measured in the same way as the Direct Slides, though 
when its length exceeds that of the Whole Tone, it generally extends through 
several words of the sentence.] 

81. 

" If to do were as easy as to know what were g5od to do, chapels 
had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a 



58 Inflections. 

good divine that follows his own instructions. I can easier teach 
twenty what were good to bedone than to be one of the twenty to 
follow mine own teaching." 

Merchant of Venice. — Shakespeare. 

82. 

None dared withstand him to his face, 
But one sly maiden spake aside: 

"The little witch is evil-eyed! 
Her mother only killed a cow 
Or witched a churn or dairy -pan, 

But she, forsooth, must charm a m*ln!" 

The Witch's Daughter. — John G. Whittter. 

83. 

•* You say you are a better soldier. 
Let it appear so. Make your vaunting true, 
And it shall please me well. For mine own 
Part, I shall be glM to learn of noble men." 

Julius Omar. — Shakespeare. 

84. 

" There's no knowing," said Dolly, " wMt you may have learned 
among those children at the asylum!" 

"May I go to the evening school?" asked Rose. "It is a free 
school." 

"Well, you're not free to go, if it is. You know how to read and 
write, and I have taught you how to make change pretty well — that's 
all you need for my purposes. You're too grand to trim caps and 
b5nnets like your Aunt Dolly, I suppose. It's quite beneath a charity 
orphan, of course !" 

Bose Clark. — Fanny Fern. 

85, 

They owned it couldn't have well been w5rse. 
To go from a full to an empty purse, 
To expect a reversion and get a reverse 
Was truly a dismal feature. 



Inflections. 59 

But it wasn't strange — they whispered — at all. 
That the summer of pride should have its fall 

Was quite according to Nature. 
She wasn't ruined, — they ventured to hope — 
Because she was poor she needn't mope. 
F6w people were better off for soap, 

And that was a consolation. 

The Proud Miss MacBride. — John G. Saxe. 

86. 

["As the Emphasis increases, the length of the Slide increases."] 

Increasing Slides. 

" In a fortnight or three weeks," said my uncle Toby, smiling, "he 
might march." " He will never march, an' please your honor, in this 
world," said the corporal. " He will march," said my uncle Toby, 
rising up with one shoe off. " An' please your honor," said the cor- 
poral, "he will never march but to his grave." " He shall march," 
cried my uncle Toby, " he shall march to his regiment." " He can- 
not stand it," said the corporal. " He shall be supported," said my 
uncle Toby. " Ah-well-a-day, do what w T e can for him," said Trim, 
maintaining his point, "the poor soul will die." "He shall not," 
shouted my uncle Toby, with an oath. The Accusing Spirit which 
flew up to heaven's chancery, blushed as he gave it in, and the 
Recording Angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word 
and blotted it out forever. 

The Story of La Fevre. — Laurence Sterne. 

[The Slides of the Fifth and Octave, being the most emphatic, are consequently 
the least used, and their use is always a matter of taste and judgment. Where 
one reader would give extreme emphasis to a passage another would render it as 
correctly, and quite as acceptably, with less. The Slides of the Whole Tone, the 
Third and Circumflex being the only ones used in ordinary speech and reading 
are consequently the most practical. But drill upon all the Slides — with single 
sounds and words— is specially recommended, as developing flexibility of tone.] 



60 Examples in Emphasis. 



Examples Illustrating Emphasis on the Noun. 

1. An accident has happened. 

2. He took a bundle with him. 

3. Soldiers in peace are like chimneys in summer. 

4. Libraries are the wardrobes of literature. 

5. Time is often the best doctor. 

Emphasis on the Verb. 

1. This matter troubles me. 

2. He will not listen to it. 

3. Sheathe your dagger. 

4. Who offered him the crown? 

5. I never saw it or heard of it. 

Emphasis on the Pronoun. 

1. Forgive others, but never yourself. 

2. /cannot do it as well as you can. 

3. He saw the beauty, she the terror of the ocean. 

4. This was joy to me, but it made him angry. 

5. Must I budge? Must /observe you? 

Emphasis on the Adverb. 

1. We lived so cozily in that house. 

2. Give willingly if you give at all. 

3. You come most carefully upon your hour. 

4. He laughs best who laughs last. 

5. Too wise is stupid. 

6. The load borne cheerfully is light. 

Emphasis on the Adjective. 

1. No corrupt judge searches for truth. 

2. Come on my right hand, for this ear is deaf. 

3. He depends upon mental power. 

4. Mental stains cannot be washed away. 

5. What a fearful night is this! 

6. No wise man ever wished to be younger. 

7. What was the second noise for? 

8. Nor is my whole estate upon the fortune of this present year. 



SELECTIONS FOR READING. 



A PLEA FOE ENTHUSIASM. 

No power so completely sways the hearts and wills of 
mankind as that of enthusiasm. History is but a chroni- 
cle of the results of enthusiasm — the enthusiasm of in- 
dividuals, the enthusiasm of sects, the enthusiasm of 
nations. Without its inspiration, how life itself would 
lose its interest, its power. What is it but enthusiasm 
which marks one wide difference between the brute and 
the man? The brute eats, sleeps, and dies. These three 
words cover the whole range of its existence. Man, on 
the other hand, has motives, hopes, aspirations. By these 
every act of his life is influenced. These give him en- 
ergy, courage, faith, purpose — in a word, enthusiasm. 
And what is the result? Why, increasing activities mark 
his days and years, and it is this growth and gain that 
constitute true life. 

An army was in full retreat. The enemy had surprised, 
attacked, and routed them. Panic-stricken, they were 
turning from the battlefield in headlong flight. Men 
threw aside their guns, their knapsacks, anything that 
hindered their escape. Horse and foot were mingled in 
wild confusion. All was in terror and dismay. Suddenly 
the foremost beholds dashing down the road toward them 
a black horse and his rider; the rider waves his sword, 



62 Selections for Beading. 

and they hear the command: "Halt!" Catching the 
fire of his eye, they turn and re-form; and as General 
Sheridan rides swiftly down the lines the men greet him 
with loud and hearty cheers. And now, as if swayed by 
one mighty impulse, those lines of blue, that but a mo- 
ment before were flying terror-stricken, turn fiercely upon 
the enemy, wrest the victory from their hands, and drive 
them in utter rout from the field. The tide of victory 
is turned; the day is saved. What was the power, the 
influence, that was able to transform defeat into victory? 
Was it anything else than the spirit of enthusiasm in the 
great leader himself, kindling a like spirit into flame in 
the hearts of his men? 

Enthusiasm recognizes no obstacle, and knows not the 
word failure. There is a legend of a man who came up 
against a king. The king had a force of thirty thousand 
men, and when he learned that this general had only five 
hundred, he sent a messenger to him offering to treat him 
and his followers mercifully if they would surrender. 
The general turned to one near him, and said, " Take 
that dagger and drive it to your heart " ; the man did so, 
and fell dead at his commander's feet. Turning to 
another, he said, " Leap into yonder chasm " ; the man 
obeyed, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks below. 
Then said he to the messenger: " Go tell your king that 
I have five hundred such men. Tell him that we may 
die, but we shall never surrender." The messenger re- 
turned; his story struck terror into the heart of that king 
and so demoralized his troops that they were scattered 
like chaff before the winds. That is the power of enthu- 
siasm. " We may die, but we never surrender." 

Look through history and note its influence. See in 



Selections for Reading. 63 

religion, in literature, in science, in art, in everything to 
which man has put his hand, this spirit working its re- 
sults and bringing success. Oh, you who are decrying en- 
thusiasm, calling its zeal without knowledge, know you not 
the meaning of that word — " God in us " ? Find quickly 
the object to which you will devote your life; let it be 
right, let it be worthy, and then give yourself to it with 
all your God-given powers. " God in us " ; and what is 
God himself but an endless activity ever working, never 
ceasing? The farther we are removed from the brute 
and the nearer we approach the divinity within us, the 
more shall we be moved by the spirit of enthusiasm. 



LOYALTY. 

S. S. CUREY. 



Loyalty belongs to every true heart. It is an essen- 
tial element in every noble character; it may be found 
by the fireside, on the street, in the shop, in the studio, 
in the public hall, on the platform, on the stage — in 
every department of life and art. 

An ideal vision of truth, a firm, rational belief in 
justice, and a reposeful trust in the Power that makes 
for righteousness, have their culmination not in senti- 
mentality, not in weakness nor idleness, but in a noble, 
heroic loyalty. 

Even loyalty to one's country does not show itself only 
in being willing to die for her in the hour of danger, but 
in being willing to live for her; to fight not only a foreign 
foe, but an internal foe; to fight not only external ene- 



64 Selections for Beading. 

mies, but those in our midst whose influence, if unop- 
posed, would soon bring our country to ruin. 

This heroic element is found in every clime, in every 
age, in every noble life. Without it nothing is accom- 
plished, character grows weak, art grows sentimental, 
and human progress is perverted. Much of the advance 
of the race has been accomplished through heroic en- 
deavor, through bravery. 

It was no question of money that inspired the little 
band of three hundred at Thermopylae and caused them 
to rush on an army of millions and die. Simonides truly 
expressed their feelings in his inscription over their 
graves, " Say at Lacedsemon we lie here in obedience to 
her laws." 

The time will come, we all devoutly hope, when war 
will be no more; but the time will never come when heroic 
loyalty in the face of danger and death, in the face of 
contempt and opposition, in the face of poverty and neg- 
lect, in the face of lack of appreciation, shall cease to 
thrill the human heart. 



PEACE OF MIND. 

My mind to me a kingdom is; 

Such perfect joy therein I find 
As far exceeds all earthly bliss 

That God or nature hath assigned; 
Though much I want that most would have, 
Yet still my mind forbids to crave. 

Content I live, this is my stay; 

I seek no more than may suffice; 
I press to bear no haughty sway; 



Selections for Heading. 65 

Look! what I lack my mind supplies. 
Lo! thus I triumph like a king, 
Content with that my mind doth bring. 

I see how plenty surfeits oft, 

And hasty climbers soonest fall; 
I see that such as sit aloft 

Mishap doth threaten most of all. 
These get with toil, and keep with fear; 
Such cares my mind could never bear. 

No princely pomp, nor wealthy store; 

No force to win a victory, 
No wily wit to salve a sore, 

No shape to win a lover's eye; 
To none of these I yield as thrall — 
For why? My mind despiseth all. 

Some have too much, yet still they crave; 

I little have, yet seek no more; 
They are but poor, though much they have, 

And I am rich with little store; 
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give; 
They lack, I lend; they pine, I live. 

I laugh not at another's loss, 

I grudge not at another's gain; 
No worldly wave my mind can toss; 

I brook that is another's bane; 
I fear no foe, nor fawn no friend ; 
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end. 

My wealth is health and perfect ease; 

My conscience clear my chief defense; 
I never seek by bribes to please, 

Nor by desert to give offense; 
Thus do I live, thus will I die; 
Would all did so as well as I! 

I take no joy in earthly bliss; 

I weigh not Croesus' wealth a straw; 
For care, I care not what it is; 



66 Selections for Reading. 

I fear not fortune's fatal law. 
My mind is such as may not move 
For beauty bright or force of love. 

I wish but what I have at will; 

I wander not to seek for more; 
I like the plain, I climb no hill; 

In greatest storms I sit on shore, 
And laugh at them that toil in vain 
To get what must be lost again. 

I kiss not where I wish to kill; 

I feign not love where most I hate; 
I break no sleep to win my will; 

I wait not at the mighty's gate; 
I scorn no poor, I fear no rich ; 
I feel no want, nor have too much. 

The court, nor cart, I like nor loathe; 

Extremes are counted worst of all; 
The golden mean betwixt them both 

Doth surest sit, and fears no fall. 
This is my choice — for why? I find 
No wealth is like a quiet mind. 



PYEAMIDS NOT ALL EGYPTIAN 

P. O. BARNES. 

Mankind are toiling for a deathless name. Various 
are the schemes devised, and the plans pursued, to gain 
this one world-sought end — to rear a pyramid that shall 
not decay, but grow broader and higher with " the roll of 
ages." This is the nucleus of the world of thought. At 
its altar are immolated the smile and tear, the swell of 
delight and revenging throb, the sweets of duty ; and joys 



Selections for Beading. 67 

of life, and hopes of heaven. ~No hardships, nor priva- 
tions, nor sacrifices, but here are freely shrined. Eating 
the bread of sorrow and drinking the tears of mourning, 
the individual world eagerly pursues the phantom of hope 
till death stops the chase and rolls them into the tomb. 
Dreaming of this, the peasant forgets his grief, and only 
seeks to become dear in his own circle, though icicles 
hang from his brow and freeze around his heart. 

The student ekes out his life in midnight thought, 
tumbles into the grave, only craving a wandering sigh 
when years have rolled away. The conspirator cuts the 
bands of civil law, touches the spring of revolution, and 
heaves whole empires into a sea of tears, that his name 
may eddy away on the raging billows. The warrior 
builds his pyramid on the bloody battle plain; and where 
bayonet, and fire, and blood, blend their terrors, he deals 
death with his saber, and flings heart's blood at the sun 
with his glittering blade. The moral deceiver erect c his 
in a more solemn realm. He blots out the sun of hope, 
rolls man up in self, and pushes a whole world to the 
doleful caverns of an eternal night. And what an illus- 
tration of this is Mohammed, that form of terror which 
blazed athwart the moral heavens, consumed the vital 
atmosphere, and shrieking with his latest breath, " Oh, 
God! pardon my sins/' plunged into the awful whirlpool 
of shoreless remorse. How has the bleak, black summit 
of his pyramid been shattered by the scathing fires of 
Heaven's judgment? To give his name to posterity, 
Caesar crossed the Eubicon, and Home was free no more. 
He built a terrible pyramid upon the ruins of the 
" Eternal City." But think you its vast height gave him 
pride, or availed him aught when the cold steel of Brutus' 



68 Selections for Heading. 

dagger rankled in his heart, and poured his blood on 
the Senate floor of Home? 

To gain an undying name, Alexander drew the sword 
of conquest, lit up the land with burning cities, quenched 
their sighs with tears, extorted the sigh of anguish from 
millions, and then died, seeking to show himself a god. 
And Bonaparte, too, that lion, swimming in blood, went 
over Europe tying laurels on his brow with heart-strings, 
and writing his name with his blood-streaming sword, 
full on the thrones and foreheads of kings. The powers 
of his mind, throbbing in midnight dreams, shook the 
civilized world; and yet the delirious spirit of this world- 
wonderful warrior, whose haughty star withered kings 
and whose brow was unawed, whether his eagles hovered 
around the Alps or shrieked amid the flames of Moscow, 
died a powerless prisoner on the lonely billow-dashed 
isle of St. Helena. These have gained names more last- 
ing than Egyptian pyramids. But oh! the doleful price 
of their eternal ruin. Who, who can read the history of 
such men as these and then seek a like immortality? 
May the winds of annihilation blow such desires from 
our earth! But is there no way of gaining a name, 
noble, glorious, immortal? Boundless are the fields, 
endless are the ways, and numberless the examples of 
pure and heavenly renown. Though the ways which lead 
to never-ending shame are many, there are paths that 
lead to fame unsullied and undying, up which many great 
minds have toiled unceasing, till death cut the fetters 
and sent them home. 

The scholar, astronomer, poet, orator, patriot, and 
philosopher, all have fields, broad, fertile, perennial. 
The ruins of the "Eternal City " " still breathe, born 



Selections for Beading. 69 

with Cicero." The story of Demosthenes, with his 
mouth full of pebbles, haranguing the billows of old 
ocean, will be stammered by the schoolboy " down to 
latest time." And after " the foot of time " has trodden 
down his marble tombstone, and strewed his grave with 
the dust of ages, it will be said that Nature's orator, 
Patrick Henry, while accused of treason and threatened 
with death, " hurled his crushing thunderbolts " at the 
haughty form of tyranny, and cried, " Give me liberty, or 
give me death," in accents that burned all over Europe. 

Washington, too, has a pyramid in every American 
heart. When the serpent, tyranny, wrapped his freezing 
folds around our nation's heart, and with exulting hisses 
raised his horrid coils to heaven, then Washington 
hurled a thunderbolt that drove him back to molder and 
rot beneath the crumbling thrones of Europe, and sent 
the startling echo of freedom rumbling around our broad 
green earth. A fire of desolation may kindle in our 
metropolis and strew it in the dust, yea, may burn away 
our continent with all its monuments, but his name will 
be breathed with reverence till the ocean has ceased to 
heave, and time has ceased to be. Our countryman, 
Franklin, too; look at the pyramid that bears his name, 
burying its mighty summit in the lowering thunder- 
cloud, while around it the lightnings play and lurk, and 
write " Immortality." Has not Newton a name among 
the immortal? How eagerly did he grasp the golden 
chain, swung from the Eternal Throne, and with what 
intense rapture and thrilling delight did he climb up- 
ward, vibrate through the concave of the skies, gaze 
around upon the stars, and bathe in the glorious sun- 
light of eternal truth that blazed from the center — Deity. 



70 Selections for Reading. 

Nor is this all. A day is coming when the pyramids 
built in blood shall crumble and sink, when yonder 
firmament shall frown in blackness and terror, when the 
judgment fires shall kindle around the pillars that stay 
creation, and rolling their smoke and flames upward, fire 
the entire starry dome, — when burning worlds shall fly, 
and lighten through immensity, — when the car of 
eternity, rumbling onward, shall ever travel over the dis- 
mal loneliness and bleak desolation of a burned-up uni- 
verse; and then shall the pyramids of the just tower away 
in the sunlight of heaven, while their builders shall cull 
the flowers and pluck the fruits of the perennial city, — 
and to God who created them, and to Christ who re- 
deemed them, swell an anthem of praise, increas- 
ing, louder and deeper, with the ceaseless annals of 
eternity. 



THE NOBLE PUEPOSES OF ELOQUENCE. 

If we consider the noble purposes to which eloquence 
may be made subservient, we at once perceive its prodi- 
gious importance to the best interests of mankind. The 
greatest masters of the art have concurred, upon the 
greatest occasions of its display, in pronouncing that its 
estimation depends on the virtuous and rational use made 
of it. 

It is but reciting the common praises of the Art of 
Persuasion, to remind you how sacred truths may be 
most ardently promulgated at the altar — the cause of 
oppressed innocence be most powerfully defended — the 
march of wicked rulers be most triumphantly resisted — 



Selections for Beading. 71 

defiance the most terrible be hurled at the oppressor's 
head. In great convulsions of public affairs, or in bring- 
ing about salutary changes, everyone confesses how im- 
portant an ally eloquence must be. But in peaceful 
times, when the progress of events is slow and even as 
the silent and unheeded pace of time, and the jars of a 
mighty tumult in foreign and domestic concerns can no 
longer be heard, then, too, she flourishes — protectress of 
liberty — patroness of improvement — guardian of all the 
blessings that can be showered upon the mass of human 
kind; nor is her form ever seen but on ground conse- 
crated to free institutions. 

To me, calmly revolving these things, such pursuits 
seem far more noble objects of ambition than any upon 
which the vulgar herd of busy men lavish prodigal their 
restless exertions. To diffuse useful information, to 
further intellectual refinement, sure forerunners of moral 
improvement, — to hasten the coming of the bright day 
when the dawn of general knowledge shall chase away 
the lazy, lingering mists, even from the base of the great 
social pyramid; this indeed is a high calling, in which 
the most splendid talents and consummate virtue may 
well press onward, eager to bear a part. 



ODE TO DUTY. 
William Wordsworth. 

Stern daughter of the voice of God! 

O Duty! if that name thou love 
Who art a light to guide, a rod 

To check the erring and reprove; 



72 Selections for Heading. 

Thou who art victory and law 
When empty terrors overawe; 
From vain temptations dost set free 
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity! 

There are who ask not if thine eye 

Be on them; who, in love and truth 
Where no misgiving is, rely 

Upon the genial sense of youth; 
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot, 
Who do thy work and know it not. 

O, if, through confidence misplaced, 
They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power, around them cast! 

Serene will be our days and bright 

And happy will our nature be, 
When love is an unerring light, 

And joy its own security. 
And they a blissful course may hold 
Ev'n now who, not unwisely bold, 

Live in the spirit of this creed; 
Yet find that other strength, according to their need. 

I, loving freedom, and untried, 

No sport of every random gust, 
Yet being to myself a guide, 

Too blindly have reposed my trust; 
And oft, when in my heart was heard 
Thy timely mandate, I deferred 

The task, in smoother walks to stray; 
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. 

Through no disturbance of my soul, 
Or strong compunction in me wrought, 

I supplicate for thy control, 

But in the quietness of thought: 

Me this unchartered freedom tires; 

I feel the weight of chance desires; 
My hopes no more must change their name; 
I long for a repose which ever is the same. 



Selections for Beading. 73 

Stern lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear 

The Godhead's most benignant grace; 
Nor know we anything so fair 

As is the smile upon thy face; 
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, 
And fragrance in thy footing treads; 

Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; 
And the most ancient heavens through thee are fresh and strong. 

To humbler functions, awful power, 

I call thee ! 1 myself commend 
Unto thy guidance from this hour; 

O let my weakness have an end ! 
Give unto me, made lowly wise, 
The spirit of self-sacrifice; 

The confidence of reason give; 
And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live. 



IMMORTALITY OF TRUE PATRIOTISM. 
James A. Garfield. 

For nearly fifty years no spot in any of these states 
had been the scene of battle. But as a flash of lightning 
in a midnight tempest reveals the abysmal horrors of the 
sea, so did the flash of the first gun disclose the awful 
abyss into which rebellion was ready to plunge us. In a 
moment the fire was lighted in twenty million hearts. In 
a moment we were the most warlike nation on the earth. 
In a moment we were not merely a people with an army 
— we were a people in arms. The nation was in column 
— not all at the front, but all in the array. 

I love to believe that no heroic sacrifice is ever lost; 
that treasured up in American souls are all the uncon- 
scious influences of the great deeds of the Anglo-Saxon 



74 Selections for Reading. 

race, from Agincourt to Bunker Hill. It was such an in- 
fluence that led a young Greek, two thousand years ago, 
when musing on the Battle of Marathon, to exclaim: 
" The trophies of Miltiades will not let me sleep!" 
Could these men be silent in 1861, — these whose ances- 
tors had felt the inspiration of battle on every field 
where civilization had fought in the last thousand years? 
Eead their answer in this green turf. Each for himself 
gathered up the cherished purposes of life, — its aims and 
ambitions, its dearest affections, — and flung all, with life 
itself, into the scale of battle. 

We began the war for the Union alone; but we had not 
gone far into its darkness before a new element was 
added to the conflict, which filled the army and the 
nation with cheerful but intense religious enthusiasm. In 
lessons that could not be misunderstood the nation was 
taught that God had linked to our own the destiny of 
an enslaved race — that their liberty and our Union were 
indeed " one and inseparable." It was this that made 
the soul of John Brown the marching companion of our 
soldiers, and made them sing as they went down to 
battle: 

" In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born, across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me ; 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on." 

The struggle consecrated, in some degree, every man 
who bore a worthy part. I can never forget an incident 
illustrative of this thought which it was my fortune to 
witness, near sunset of the second day at Chickamauga, 
when the beleaguered but unbroken left wing of our 
army had again and again repelled the assaults of more 



Selections for Reading. 75 

than double their numbers, and when each soldier felt 
that to his individual hands were committed the life of 
the army and the honor of his country. 

It was just after a division had fired its last cartridge 
and had repelled a charge at the point of the bayonet 
that the great-hearted commander took the hand of an 
humble soldier and thanked him for his steadfast cour- 
age. The soldier stood silent for a moment, and then 
said with deep emotion: " George H. Thomas has taken 
this hand in his. Fll knock down any mean man that 
offers to take it hereafter." This rough sentence was 
full of meaning. He felt that something had touched 
that hand which consecrated it. Could a hand bear our 
banner in battle and not be forever consecrated to honor 
and virtue? But doubly consecrated were those who re- 
ceived into their own hearts the fatal shafts aimed at the 
life of their country. 

Fortunate men! your country lives because you died! 
Your fame is placed where the breath of calumny can 
never reach it, where the mistakes of a weary life can 
never dim its brightness! Coming generations will rise 
up to call you blessed! 



WASHINGTON'S FAREWELL ADDEESS TO THE 
PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES. 

[Inserted as a very difficult piece of reading.] 

Friends axd Fellow-Citizens : The period for a 
new election of a citizen, to administer the executive 
government of the Ignited States, being not far distant, 
and the time actually arrived when your thoughts must 



76 Selections for Reading. 

be employed in designating the person who is to be 
clothed with that important trust, it appears to me 
proper, especially as it may conduce to a more distinct 
expression of the public voice, that I should now apprise 
you of the resolution I have formed, to- decline being 
considered among the number of those out of whom a 
choice is to be made. 

In looking forward to the moment which is to termi- 
nate the career of my political life, my feelings do not 
permit me to suspend the deep acknowledgment of that 
debt of gratitude which I owe to my beloved country 
for the many honors it has conferred upon me; still 
more for the steadfast confidence with which it has sup- 
ported me; and for the opportunities I have thence en- 
joyed of manifesting my inviolable attachment, by 
services faithful and persevering, though in usefulness 
unequal to my zeal. 

Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every ligament 
of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary 
to fortify or confirm the attachment. 

The unity of Government which constitutes you one 
people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so; for it is 
a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence, the 
support of your tranquillity at home, your peace abroad; 
of your safety; of your prosperity; of that very Liberty 
which you so highly prize. But as it is easy to foresee, 
that, from different causes and from different quarters, 
much pains will be taken, many artifices employed, to 
weaken in your minds the conviction of this truth; as 
this is the point in your political fortress against which 
the batteries of internal and external enemies will be 
most constantly and actively (though often covertly and 



Selections for Reading. 77 

insidiously) directed, it is of infinite moment that you 
should properly estimate the immense value of your 
national Union to your collective and individual happi- 
ness; that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and im- 
movable attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to 
think and speak of it as of the Palladium of your polit- 
ical safety and prosperity; watching for its preservation 
with jealous anxiety; discountenancing whatever may 
suggest even a suspicion that it can in any event be 
abandoned; and indignantly frowning upon the first 
dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of our 
country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred ties 
which now link together the various parts. 

For this you have every inducement of sympathy and 
interest. Citizens, by birth or choice, of a common coun- 
try, that country has a right to concentrate your affec- 
tions. The name of American, which belongs to you, 
in your national capacity, must always exalt the just 
pride of Patriotism, more than any appellation derived 
from local discriminations. 

This Government, the offspring of our own choice, un- 
influenced and unawed, adopted upon full investigation 
and mature deliberation, completely free in its principles, 
in the distribution of its powers, uniting security with 
energy, and containing within itself a provision for its 
own amendment, has a just claim to your confidence and 
your support. Eespect for its authority, compliance with 
its laws, acquiescence in its measures, are duties enjoined 
by the fundamental maxims of true Liberty. The basis 
of our political systems is the right of the people to make 
and to alter their Constitutions of Government. But the 
Constitution which at any time exists, till changed by an 



78 Selections for Beading. 

explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly 
obligatory upon all. The very idea of the power and the 
right of the people to establish Government presupposes 
the duty of every individual to obey the established Gov- 
ernment. 

All obstructions to the execution of the Laws, all com- 
binations and associations, under whatever plausible 
character, with the real design to direct, control, coun- 
teract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the 
constituted authorities, are destructive of this fundamen- 
tal principle, and of fatal tendency. They serve to 
organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary 
force; to put, in the place of the delegated will of the 
nation, the will of a party, often a small but artful and 
enterprising minority of the community; and, according 
to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make 
the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted 
and incongruous projects of faction rather than the 
organ of consistent and wholesome plans digested by 
common counsels, and modified by mutual interests. 

Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to polit- 
ical prosperity, Keligion and Morality are indispensable 
supports. In vain would that man claim the tribute of 
Patriotism who should labor to subvert these great pil- 
lars of human happiness, these firmest of props of the 
duties of Men and Citizens. 

Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, 
institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In 
proportion as the structure of government gives force 
to public opinion, it is essential that public opinion should 
be enlightened. 

Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; 



Selections for Heading. 79 

cultivate peace and harmony with all. Beligion and 
Morality enjoin this conduct; and can it be that faith 
and good policy does not equally enjoin it? It will be 
worthy of a free, enlightened, and, at no distant period, 
a great nation, to give to mankind the magnanimous 
and too novel example of a people always guided by an 
exalted justice and benevolence. 

Against the insidious wiles of foreign influence (I con- 
jure you to believe me, fellow-citizens) the jealousy of a 
free people ought to be constantly awake; since history 
and experience prove that foreign influence is one of 
the most baneful foes of Eepublican Government. But 
that jealousy, to be useful, must be impartial; else it be- 
comes the instrument of the very influence to be avoided, 
instead of a defense against it. 

The great rule of conduct for us, in regard to foreign 
nations, is, in extending our commercial relations, to 
have with them as little political connection as possible. 
So far as we have already formed engagements, let them 
be fulfilled with perfect good faith. Here let us stop. 

Though, in viewing the incidents of my administra- 
tion, I am unconscious of intentional error, I am never- 
theless too sensible of my defects not to think it probable 
that I may have committed many errors. Whatever they 
may be, I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert or 
mitigate the evils to which they may tend. I shall also 
carry with me the hope, that my Country will never 
cease to view them with indulgence; and that, after forty- 
five years of my life dedicated to its service with an up- 
right zeal, the faults of incompetent abilities will be con- 
signed to oblivion, as myself must soon be to the man- 
sions of rest. 



80 Selections for Reading. 

Eelying on its kindness in this as in other things, and 
actuated by that fervent love towards it which is so 
natural to a man who views in it the native soil of him- 
self and his progenitors for several generations, I antici- 
pate with pleasing expectation that retreat in which I 
promise myself to realize, without alloy, the sweet enjoy- 
ment of partaking, in the midst of my fellow-citizens, 
the benign influence of good laws under a free govern- 
ment, the ever favorite object of my heart, and the happy 
reward, as I trust, of our mutual cares, labors, and 
dangers. 

Geoege Washington". 

United States, September 17, 1796. 



A BEAUTIFUL LEGEND. 

Softly fell the touch of twilight on Judea's silent hills; 

Slowly crept the peace of moonlight o'er Judea's trembling rills. 

In the temple's court, conversing, seven elders sat apart; 

Seven grand and hoary sages, wise of head and pure of heart. 

" What is rest? " said Rabbi Judah, he of stern and steadfast gaze; 

* ' Answer, ye whose tools have burdened thro' the march of many 

days." 
44 To have gained," said Eabbi Ezra, " decent wealth and goodly 

store 
Without sin, by honest labor— nothing less and nothing more/' 
" To have found," said Rabbi Joseph, meekness in his gentle eyes, 
44 A foretaste of heaven's sweetness in home's blessed paradise." 
" To have wealth, and power, and glory, crowned and brightened by 

the pride 
Of uprising children's children," Rabbi Benjamin replied. 
"To have won the praise of nations, to have won the crown of 

fame," 
Rabbi Solomon responded, faithful to his kingly name. 



Selections for Reading. 81 

" To sit throned, the lord of millions, first and noblest in the land," 
Answered haughty Rabbi Asher, youngest of the reverend band. 
"All in vain," said Rabbi Jairus, "unless faith and hope have 

traced 
In the soul Mosaic precepts by sin's contact uneffaced." 
Then uprose wise Rabbi Judah, tallest, gravest of them all: 
" From the height of fame and honor even valiant souls may fall: 
Love may fail us, virtue's sapling grow a dry and thorny rod, 
If we bear not in our bosom the unselfish love of God." 
In the outer court sat playing a sad-featured, fair-haired child, 
His young eyes seemed wells of sorrow — they were God-like when he 

smiled! 
One by one he dropped the lilies, softly plucked with childish hand; 
One by one he viewed the sages of that grave and hoary band; 
Step by step he neared them closer, till, encircled by the seven, 
Thus he said, in tones untrembling, with a smile that breathed of 

heaven : 
4< Nay, nay, father! Only he, within the measure of whose breast 
Dwells the human love with God-love, can have found life's truest 

rest; 
For where one is not, the other must grow stagnant at its spring; 
Changing good deeds into phantoms — an unmeaning, soulless thing; 
Who holds this precept truly owns a jewel brighter far 
Than the joys of home and children — than wealth, fame, and glory 

are; 
Fairer than old age, thrice honored far above tradition's law, 
Pure as any radiant vision ever ancient prophet saw. 
Only he within the measure — faith apportioned — of whose breast 
Throbs this brother-love with God-love, knows the depth of perfect 

rest." 
"Wondering gazed they at each other, once in silence, and no more: 
14 He has spoken words of wisdom no man ever spake before! " 
Calmly passing from their presence to the fountain's rippling song, 
Stooped he to uplift the lilies strewn the scattered sprays among. 
Faintly stole the sounds of evening through the massive outer doors, 
Whitely lay the peace of moonlight on the temple's marble floor, 
Where the elders lingered, silent, since he spake, and, undefiled, 
Where the wisdom of the Ages sat amid the flowers — a child! 



82 Selections for Reading. 



EIGHTS AWD DUTIES. 
F, W. Robertson. 

People talk of liberty as if it meant the liberty of 
doing what a man likes. I call that man free who is 
master of his lower appetites, who is able to rule himself. 
I call him free who has his flesh in subjection to his 
spirit. I call him free who fears doing wrong, but who 
fears neither man nor devil besides. 

We hear in these days a great deal respecting rights. 
We hear of the rights of private judgment, the rights of 
labor, the rights of property, and the rights of man. 
Eights are grand things, divine things in this world of 
God's. But the way in which we expound those rights, 
alas! seems to me to be the very incarnation of selfish- 
ness. I can see nothing very noble in a man who is for- 
ever going about calling for his own rights. Alas! alas! 
for the man who feels nothing more grand in this won- 
drous divine world than his rights. 

The cry of " My rights, your duties," I think we might 
change to something nobler. If we could learn to say "My 
duties, your rights," we should come to the same thing 
in the end; but the spirit would be different. All we 
are gaining by this cry of " Rights " is the life of the 
wild beast, and of the wild man of the desert whose 
hand is against every man, and every man's hand against 
him. Nay, the very brutes, unless they had an instinct 
which respects rights even more strongly than it claims 
them, could never form anything like a community. Did 
you never observe in a heronry or a rookery that the new- 
made nest is left in perfect confidence by the birds that 



Selections for Heading. 83 

build it? If the others had not learned to respect those 
private and sacred rights, but began to assert each his 
right to the sticks which are woven together there, it 
would be some time before you could get a heronry or a 
rookery! 

My rights are, in truth, my duties; my rights are lim- 
ited by another man's rights. For example, I have a 
perfect right to build a wall on my own estate. The lan- 
guage of the law is that to whomsoever the soil belongs 
is his all up to the skies. But within three yards of my 
wall is my neighbor's window. What becomes of the 
right that I was talking of? My right is limited; it is 
my duty, because limited by Ms right. 

Now, democracy, if it means anything, means govern- 
ment by the people. It has for its very watchword 
equality to all men. Now, let us not endeavor to make 
it ridiculous. It does not mean that the Bushman or 
the Australian is equal to the Englishman. But it means 
this: that the original stuff of which all men are made 
is equal, that there is no reason why the Hottentot and 
the Australian may not be cultivated so that in the lapse 
of centuries they may be equal to Englishmen. 

And I suppose that all free institutions mean this. 1 
suppose they are meant to assert: let the people be edu- 
cated; let there be a fair field and no favor; let every 
man have a fair chance, and then the happiest condition 
of a nation would be that, when every man has been 
educated morally and intellectually to his very highest 
capacity, there should then be selected out of men so 
trained a government of the wisest and the best. 



84 Selections for Reading. 

OPINIONS STRONGER THAN ARMIES. 
Luther A. Ostrander. 

There is a vignette representing a heavy sword thrown 
across a dozen quills, crushing and destroying them. In 
the thrilling times of war, the picture seems the illustra- 
tion of truth, rather than the artist's fancy. When 
governments lay their hands on their sword-hilts, and 
nations marshal themselves in battle array, it is natural 
to believe the sword mightier than the pen, armies 
stronger than opinions. Strength is a force known only 
in its results. An army is a gigantic force. It marches 
forth with roll of drums, and proud banners streaming, 
bayonets gleaming in the sunlight. Earth trembles under 
its measured tread, and it is full of grandeur. It sweeps 
to the battle with the fury of the tempest; dark battalions 
roll together; squadrons charge with flashing sabers, and 
dense sulphurous clouds hail iron. It returns with hon- 
ored scars, torn battle-flags, and shouts of victory. 

Military strength is physical strength. It defies 
reason; hews congenial states asunder; chains, in repul- 
sive union, the deadliest enemies. What is the strength 
of opinions? Opinions are ideas, condensed thoughts. 
They, too, are force; but a force intellectual and endur- 
ing. Inventing a press, they print a Bible, and stamp 
progress on every page of history. Under their influence, 
the hydra, terrible upon the waters, and the dragon, 
vomiting fire, are metamorphosed into the steamship and 
locomotive; the savage becomes a man; he dives into 
the profundity of philosophy, flashes his thoughts over 
magnetic wires, and, with the airy lightness of genius. 



Selections for Reading. 85 

soars to the farthest bounds of immensity. Are not 
opinions stronger than armies? The convulsed lips of 
trie poisoned Socrates proclaim it: the classic periods of 
Tully proclaim it; the mute eloquence of the past and 
the fiery logic of the present proclaim it. It may be ob- 
jected that Marathon, Yorktown, and Gettysburg were 
glorious triumphs of arms. True; but were they not also 
glorious triumphs of opinions? AYhat were those con- 
quering armies but embodiments of a lofty patriotism, 
the genius of liberty, and the spirit of freedom? Our 
glorious victories — what are they but drum-beats that 
keep time to the march of opinions? Our armies — they 
are not composed of vassals, but of thinkers, voters, men 
— high-minded men ; who use the ballot as wisely as they 
wield the sword — sustaining with brain-sweat and heart- 
blood their grand opinions. Armies are the towers of 
strength which men have built; opinions are the surging 
waves of the ocean which God has inade, beating against 
those towers, and crumbling them to dust. 

The dim light of the past reveals to us the forms of 
gigantic empires, whose mighty armies seem omnipotent. 
A halo of martial glory surrounds them, and then fades 
away; their marble thrones crumble; their iron limbs are 
broken; their proud navies are sunk. To-day, history 
dipping its pencil in sunlight, records the sublime tri- 
umphs of opinions. The sword rounds the periods of the 
pen; the ballot wings the bullet; schoolhouses accompany 
cannon balls; and principles bombard forts and thunder 
from ironclads. Glorious is the morning dawn! Science 
fringes the lands of darkness with a border of light; and 
the sun of Christianity, glowing along the eastern waters, 
arches the bow of promise above the golden western hills, 



86 Selections for Heading. 



MODULATION. 

Tis not enough the voice be sound and clear, 
'Tis modulation that must charm the ear. 
"When desperate heroes grieve with tedious moan, 
And whine their sorrows in a see-saw tone, 
The same soft sounds of unimpassioned woes 
Can only make the yawning hearers doze. 
That voice all modes of passion can express 
Which marks the proper words with proper stress; 
But none emphatic can that speaker call 
Who lays an equal emphasis on all. 
Some o'er the tongue the labored measures roll, 
Slow and deliberate as the parting toll; 
Point every stop, make every pause so strong, 
Their words, like stage processions, stalk along. 

All affectation but creates disgust; 
And e'en in speaking we may seem too just. 
In vain for them the pleasing measure flows 
Whose recitation runs it all to prose; 
Eepeating what the poet sets not down, 
The verb disjointing from its favorite noun, 
While pause and break and repetition join 
To make a discord in each tuneful line. 

Some placid natures fill the allotted scene 
With lifeless drawls, insipid and serene; 
While others thunder every couplet o'er, 
And almost crack your ears with rant and roar. 
More nature oft, and finer strokes, are shown 
In the low whisper than in tempestuous tone; 
And Hamlet's hollow voice and fixed amaze 
More powerful terror to the mind conveys 
Than he who, swollen with impetuous rage, 
Bullies the bulky phantom of the stage. 

He who, in earnest, studies o'er his part, 
Will find true nature cling about his heart. 



Selections for Reading. 87 

The modes of grief are not included all 
In the white handkerchief and mournful drawl; 
A single look more marks the internal woe 
Than all the windings of the lengthened Oh! 
Up to the face the quick sensation flies, 
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes; 
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair, 
And all the passions, all the soul, is there. 



AMEBIC AN" NATIONALITY. 
Rtjfus Choate. 

By the side of all antagonisms, higher than they, 
stronger than they, there rises colossal the fine sweet 
spirit of nationality, the nationality of America! See 
there the pillar of fire which God has kindled and lifted 
and moved for our hosts and our ages. Gaze on that, 
worship that, worship the highest in that. Between that 
light and our eyes a cloud for a time may seem to gather; 
chariots, armed men on foot, the troops of kings, may 
march on us, and our fears may make us for a moment 
turn from it; a sea may spread before us, and waves seem 
to hedge us up; dark idolatries may alienate some hearts 
for a season from that worship; revolt, rebellion, may 
break out in the camp, and the waters of our springs may 
run bitter to the taste and mock it; between us and that 
Canaan a great river may seem to be rolling; but beneath 
that high guidance our way is onward, ever onward; those 
waters shall part, and stand on either hand in heaps; that 
idolatry shall repent; that rebellion shall be crushed; that 
stream shall be sweetened; that overflowing river shall be 
passed on foot dryshod, in harvest time; and from that 



88 Selections for Beading. 

promised land of flocks, fields, tents, mountains, coasts, 
and ships, from north and south, and east and west, there 
shall swell one cry yet, of victory, peace, and thanks- 
giving! 

If you would contemplate nationality as an active 
virtue, look around you. It has kindled us to no aims of 
conquest. It has involved us in no entangling alliances. 
It has kept us at rest within all our borders; it has re- 
pressed without blood the intemperance of local in- 
subordination; it has scattered the seeds of liberty, under 
law and under order, broadcast; it has seen and helped 
American feeling to swell into a fuller flood, from many a 
field and many a deck, though it seeks not war, makes not 
war, and fears not war, it has borne the radiant flag, all 
unstained; it has opened our age of lettered glory; it has 
opened and honored the age of the industry of the people. 



THE SERVICE OP ART. 

George Eliot. 

Klesmer made his most deferential bow in the wide 
doorway of the antechamber. Gwendolen met him with 
unusual gravity, and holding out her hand, said, "It is 
most kind of you to come, Herr Klesmer. I hope you have 
not thought me presumptuous. " 

" I took your wish as a command that did me honor, " 
said Klesmer with answering gravity. 

Gwendolen for once was under too great a strain of feel- 
ing to remember formalities. She continued standing near 
the piano, and Klesmer took his stand at the other end of 



Selections for Reading. 89 

it with his back to the light and his terribly omniscient eyes 
upon her. No affectation was of use, and she began without 
delay. 

" I wish to consult you, Herr Klesmer. We have lost all 
our fortune; we have nothing. I must get my own bread 
and I desire to provide for my mother, so as to save her 
from any hardship. The only way I can think of — and I 
should like it better than anything — is to be an actress, to 
go on the stage. But of course I should like to take a high 
position, and I thought — if you thought I could," — here 
Gwendolen became a little more Nervous — "it would be 
better for me to be a singer — to study singing also." 

Klesmer put his hat on the piano, and folded his arms as 
if to concentrate himself. 

" I know," Gwendolen resumed, " that my method of 
singing is very defective; but I have been ill-taught. I 
could be better taught; I could study. And you will under- 
stand my wish; to sing and act too, like Grisi, is a much 
higher position. Naturally I should wish to take as high a 
rank as I can. And I can rely on your judgment. I am 
sure you will tell me the truth." 

Gwendolen somehow had the conviction that, now she 
made this serious appeal, the truth would be favorable. 
Still Klesmer did not speak. He was filled with compassion 
for this girl. Presently he said, with gentle, though quick 
utterance, "You have never seen anything, I think, of 
artists and their lives? I mean of musicians, actors, artists 
of any kind ?" 

" Oh, no," said Gwendolen, unperturbed by a reference 
to this obvious fact in the history of a young lady hitherto 
well provided for. 

" You have probably not thought of an artistic career 
till now; you did not entertain the notion, the longing— 



90 Selections for Reading. 

what shall I say? — you did not wish yourself an actress or 
anything of that sort, till the present trouble?" 

" Not exactly, but I was fond of acting. I have acted; 
you saw me, if you remember, in charades," said Gwendolen 
really fearing that Klesmer had forgotten. 

'"Yes, yes," he answered quickly, "I remember per- 
fectly." 

He walked to the other end of the room. Gwendolen 
felt that she was being weighed. The delay was unpleasant. 
" I shall be very much obliged to you for taking the trouble 
to give me your adyice, whatever it may be," she said 
gracefully. 

"Miss Harleth," said Klesmer turning towards her, and 
speaking with a slight increase of accent, " I should reckon 
myself guilty if I put a false visage on things — made them 
too black or too white. The gods have a curse for him 
who willingly tells another the wrong road. You are a 
beautiful young lady. You have been brought up in ease. 
You have not said to yourself, ' I must know this exactly;' 
6 1 must understand this exactly;' ' I must do this exactly'." 
In uttering these three terrible musts, Klesmer lifted up 
three long fingers in succession. " You have not been 
called upon to be anything but a charming young lady 
with whom it is impossible to find fault. Well, then, with 
that preparation, you wish to try the life of the artist; a 
life of arduous, unceasing work, and— uncertain praise. 
Your praise would have to be earned like your bread; both 
would come slowly, scantily — what do I say? — they might 
hardly come at all." 

This tone of discouragement which Klesmer half hoped 
might suffice without anything more unpleasant, roused 
some resistance in Gwendolen. With an air of pique she 
said, " I thought that you, being an artist, would consider 



Selections for Reading. 91 

the life one of the most honorable and delightful. And if 
I can do nothing better? I suppose that I can put up with 
the same risks that other people do?" 

" Do nothing better!" said Klesmer, a little fired. { 'No, 
my dear Miss Harleth, you could do nothing better — 
neither man nor woman could do any better — if you could 
do what was best or good of its kind. I am not decrying 
the life of the true artist. I am exalting it. I say it is out 
of reach of any but choice organizations — natures framed 
to love perfection and to labor for it; ready, like all true 
lovers, to endure, to wait, to say, ' I am not yet worthy, but 
she — Art, my mistress — is worthy and I will live to merit 
her.' An honorable life? Yes, but the honor comes from 
the inward vocation and the hard-won achievement; there 
is no honor in donning the life as a livery." 

" I am quite prepared to bear hardships at first," she 
said. " Of course no one can become celebrated all at 
once." 

" My dear Miss Harleth," he replied, " you have not yet 
conceived what excellence is. You must know what you 
have to strive for, and then you must subdue your mind and 
body to unbroken discipline. Now what sort of issue might 
be fairly expected from all this self-denial? You would 
ask that. It is right that your eyes should be open to it. 
I will tell you truthfully. The issue would be uncertain 
and — most probably — would not be worth much." 

Gwendolen's dread of showing weakness urged her to 
self-control. 

" You think I want talent, or am too old to begin." 

" Yes! The desire and training should have begun years 
ago. Any great achievement in acting or in music grows 
with the growth. Whenever an artist has been able to say, 
'I came, I saw, I conquered,' it has been at the end of 



92 Selections for Reading. 

patient practice. Genius at first is little more than a great 
capacity for receiving discipline. Singing and acting, like 
the fine dexterity of the juggler with his cups and balls, 
require a shaping of the organs towards a finer and finer 
certainty of effect. Your muscles — your whole frame — 
must go like a watch, true, true, to a hair. That is the 
work of youth before habits have been determined. You 
would find, after your education in doing things slackly for 
one and twenty years, great difficulties in study; you would 
find mortification in the treatment you would get when you 
presented yourself on the footing of skill. You would be 
subjected to tests; people would no longer feign not to see 
your blunders. You would at first be accepted only on 
trial. You would haye to keep your place in a crowd, and, 
After all, it is likely you would lose it and get out of sight; 
any success must be won by the utmost patience. If you 
determine to face these hardships and still try, you will have 
the dignity of a high purpose, even though you may have 
chosen unfortunately. You will have some merit, though 
you may win no prize. You have asked my judgment on 
your chances of winning. I don't pretend to speak ab- 
solutely; but, measuring probabilities, my judgment is, you 
will hardly achieve more than mediocrity." 

Gwendolen turned pale during this speech. At that 
moment she wished she had not sent for Herr Klesmer; 
this first experience of being taken on some other ground 
than that of her social rank and her beauty was becoming 
bitter to her. His words had really bitten into her self- 
confidence, and turned it into the pain of a bleeding wound. 
But she controlled herself and rose from her seat before 
she made any answer. It seemed natural that she should 
pause. At last she turned towards Klesmer and said with 
almost her usual air of proud equality, which in this inter- 



Selections for Heading. 93 

view had not been hitherto perceptible, " I have to thank 
you for your kindness this morning. But I can't decide 
now. In any case I am greatly obliged to you. It was 
very bold of me to ask you to take this trouble." 

When he had taken up his hat and was going to make 
his bow, Gwendolen's better self, conscious of an ingratitude 
which the clear-seeing Klesmer must have penetrated, made 
a desperate effort to find its way above the stifling layers of 
egotistic disappointment and irritation. Looking at him 
with a glance of the old gayety, she put out her hand, and 
said with a smile, "If I take the wrong road it will not be 
because of your flattery." 

" God forbid that you should take any road but where 
you will find and give happiness," said Klesmer fervently. 
Then in foreign fashion, he touched her fingers lightly with 
his lips, and in another minute she heard the sound of his 
departing wheels upon the gravel. — Daniel Derenda. 



SHIPWRECKED. 

From the French of Francois Coppee 

Before the wine-shop which o'erlooks the beach 
Sits jean Goello, rough of mien and speech; 
Our coast-guard now whose arm was shot away 
In the great fight of Navarino Bay: 
Puffing his pipe he slowly sips his grog, 
And spins sea-yarns to many an old sea-dog 
Sitting around him. 

Yes, lads, hear him say, 
Tis sixty years ago this very day 
Since first I went to sea; on board, you know, 
Of La Belle Honorine — lost long ago, — 



94 Selections for Reading. 

An old three-masted tub, rotten almost, 

Just fit to burn, bound for the Guinea coast. 

We set all sail. The breeze was fair and stiff. 

My boyhood had been passed 'neath yonder cliff, 

Where an old man — my uncle, so he said — 

Kept me at prawning for my daily bread. 

At night he came home drunk. Such kicks and blows,, 

Ah me! What children suffer no man knows! 

But once at sea 'twas ten times worse I found. 

I learned to take, to bear, and make no sound. 

The rope's-end, cuffs, kicks, blows, all fell on me 

I was a ship's boy — 'twas natural, you see — 

No man had pity. Blows and stripes always; 

For sailors knew no better in those days. 

I ceased to cry. Tears brought me no relief; 

I think I might have perished of mute grief, 

Had not God sent a friend — a friend — to me. 

Sailors believe in God — one must at sea. 

On board that ship a God of mercy then 

Had placed a dog among those cruel men. 

We soon grew friends, fast friends, true friends. God knows. 

When all the forecastle was fast asleep, 

And our men caulked their watch, I used to creep 

With Black among some boxes stowed on deck, 

And with my arms clasped tightly round his neck, 

I used to cry and cry and press my head 

Close to the heart grieved by the tears I shed. 

Night after night I mourned our piteous case, 

While Black's large tongue licked my poor tear-stained face. 

Poor Black! I think of him so often still! 
At first we had fair winds our sails to fill ; 
But one hot night when all was calm and mate 
Our skipper — a good sailor though a brute — 
Gave a long look over the vessel's side, 
Then to the steersman whispered half aside, 
5< See that ox-eye out yonder? It looks queer." 
The mau replied, " The storm will soon be here. 



Selections for Heading. 95 

Hullo ! All hands on deck ! We'll be prepared ! 

Stow royals! Reef the courses! Pass the word!" 

Vain! The squall broke ere we could shorten sail; 

We lowered the topsails, but the raging gale 

Spun our old ship about. The captain roared 

His orders— lost in the great noise on board. 

The gale grew worse and worse. She sprang a leak, 

Her hold filled fast. We found we had to seek 

Some way to save our lives. " Lower a boat!" 

The captain shouted. Before one could float 

Our ship broached to. The strain had broke her back 

Like a whole broadside boomed the awful crack. 

She settled fast. Landsmen can have no notion 

Of how it feels to sink beneath the ocean. 

As the blue billows closed above our deck, 

And with slow motion swallowed down the wreck, 

I saw my past life by some flash outspread, 

Saw the old port, its ships, its old pier head, 

My own bare feet, the rocks, the sandy shore. 

Salt water filled my mouth. I saw no more. 

I did not struggle much — I could not swim. 

I sank down deep, it seemed, drowned but for him. 

For Black, I mean, who seized my jacket tight, 

And dragged me out of darkness back to light; 

The ship was gone, the captain's gig afloat. 

By one brave tug he brought me near the boat. 

I seized the gunwale, sprang on board and drew 

My friend in after me. Of all our crew, 

The dog and I alone survived the gale; 

Afloat with neither rudder, oars, nor sail ! 

For five long nights and longer dreadful days 

We floated onward in a tropic haze. 

Fierce hunger gnawed us with its cruel fangs, 

And mental anguish with its keener pangs. 

Each morn I hoped; each night when hope was gone 

My poor dog licked me with his tender tongue. 



96 Selections for Heading. 

Under the blazing sun and starlit night 
I watched in vain. No sail appeared in sight, 
Round us the blue spread, wider, bluer, higher. 
The fifth day my parched throat was all on fire, 
When something suddenly my notice caught — 
Black — shivering, crouching underneath a thwart 
He looked — his dreadful look no tongue can tell, 
And his kind eyes glared out like coals of hell! 



Here, Black! Old fellow, here!" I cried in vain e 
He looked me in the face and crouched again. 
I rose; he snarled, drew back. How piteously 
His eyes entreated help! He snapped at me! 
Then I knew all! Five days of tropic heat 
Without one drop of drink, one scrap of meat, 
Had made him rabid. 'He whose courage had 
Preserved my life — my messmate, friend — was mad! 

You understand? Can you see him and me, 
The open boat tossed on a brassy sea, — 
A child and a wild beast on board alone, 
While overhead streams down the tropic sun, 
And the boy crouching, trembling for his life? 
I searched my pockets and I drew my knife, 
And at that moment with a furious bound 
The dog flew at me. I sprang half around. 
He missed me in blind haste. With all my might 
I seized his neck and grasped and held him tight. 
I felt him writhe and try to bite, as he 
Struggled beneath the pressure of my knee ; 
His red eyes rolled; sighs heaved his heavy coat, 
I plunged my knife three times in his poor thioat. 

And so I killed my friend. I had but one. 
What matters how, after that deed was done, 
They picked me up half dead, drenched in his gore 
And took me back to France. Need I say more? 



Selections for Reading. 97 

I have killed me, ay, many — in my day 

Without remorse, for sailors must obey. 

One of a squad, once in Barbadoes, I 

Shot my own comrade when condemned to die. 

I never dream of Mm, for that was war. 

Under old Magon, too, at Trafalgar 

I hacked the hands off English boarders. Ten 

My axe lopped off. I dream not of those men. 

At Plymouth, in a prison hulk, I slew 

Two English jailers, stabbed them through and through. 

I did, confound them! But yet even now 

The death of Black, although so long ago, 

Upsets me. I'll not sleep to-night. It brings — 

Here, boy! Another glass ! We'll talk of other things! 

— Ha?yer's Magazine. 



RUDDER GRANGE. 
Frank R. Stockton. 

Oke afternoon as I was hurrying down Broadway to catch 
the five o'clock train, I met Waterford. He is an old friend 
of mine, and I used to like him pretty well. 

" Hello!" said he, " where are you going?" 

" Home," I answered. 

"Is that so?" said he. "I didn't know you had one." 

I was a little nettled at this, and so I said, somewhat 
brusquely perhaps: 

" But you must have known I lived somewhere." 

" Oh, yes, but I thought you boarded. I had no idea you 
had a home." 

" But I have one and a very pleasant home, too. You 
must excuse me for not stopping longer, as I must catch 
xny train." 



98 Selections for Reading. 

" Oh, I'll walk along with you," said Waterford, and so 
we went down the street together. 

"Where is your little house?" he asked. 

" I don't live in a house at all." 

"Why, where do you live?" he exclaimed stopping short 

" I live in a boat," said I. 

"A boat! A sort of 'Rob Roy' arrangement, I suppose. 
Well, I would not have thought that of you. And your 
wife, I suppose, has gone home to her people?" 

" She has done nothing of the kind," I answered. " She 
lives with me and she likes it very much. We are extremely 
comfortable, and our boat is not a canoe or any such non- 
sensical affair. It is a large, commodious canal-boat." 

Waterford turned around and looked at me. 

"Are you a deck-hand?" he asked. 

" Deck — fiddlesticks!" I exclaimed. 

"Well, you needn't get mad about it," he said. "I 
didn't mean to hurt your feelings; but I couldn't see what 
else you could be on a canal-boat. I don't suppose, for 
instance, that you're Captain." 

" But I am," said I. 

" Look here," said Waterford, "this is coming it rather 
strong, isn't it?" 

As I saw he was getting angry, I told him all about it — 
told him how we had hired a stranded canal-boat and had 
fitted it up as a house, and how cosily we lived in it, and 
how we had taken a boarder. 

" Well," said he, " that is certainly surprising. I'm com- 
ing out to see you some day. It will be better than going 
to Barnum's." 

I told him — it is the way of society — that we would be 
glad to see him, and we parted. Waterford never did come 
to see us, and I merely mention this ircident to show how 



Selections for Heading. 99 

some of our friends talked about "Budder Grange" when 
they first heard that we lived there. 

Although we lived in a canal-boat we kept a girl. Her 
name was Pomona. Whether or not her parents gaye her 
this name is doubtful. At any rate she did not seem quite 
decided about it herself, for she had not been with us more 
than two weeks before she expressed a desire to be called 
Clare. This longing of her heart was denied her. My 
wife, who was always correct, called her Pomona. I did 
the same whenever I could think not to say Bologna — 
which seemed to come very pat, for some reason or other. 
As for our boarder, he generally called her Altoona, con- 
necting her in some way with the process of stopping for 
refreshments, in which she was an adept. 

She was an earnest, hearty girl. She was always in good 
humor, and when I asked her to do anything, she assented 
in a bright, cheerful way and in a loud tone full of good- 
fellowship, as though she would say: 

" Certainly, my high old boy! To "be sure I will! Don't 
worry about it. Give your mind no more uneasiness on 
that subject. Of course I'll bring the hot water." 

She did not know very much, but she delighted to learn 
and she was very strong. Whatever my wife told her to 
do, she did instantly — with a bang. The one thing about 
her that troubled me more than anything else was her taste 
for literature. It was not literature to which I objected^ 
but her peculiar taste. She read in the kitchen every night 
after she had washed the dishes, but if she had not read 
aloud it would not have made so much difference to me. 
But I do not like the company of people who, like our girl, 
cannot read without pronouncing in a measured and distinct 
voice every word of what they are reading. And when the 
matter thus read appeals to one's every sentiment of aver- 
L.ofC 



100 Selections for heading 

sion, and there is no way of escaping it, the case is hard 
indeed. 

From the first I felt inclined to order Pomona, if she 
could not attain the power of silent perusal, to cease from 
reading altogether; but Euphemia would not hear to this. 

" Poor thing!" said she, " it would be cruel to take from 
her her only recreation. And she says she can't read in any 
other way. You needn't listen if you don't want to, " 

That was all very well in an abstract point of view; but 
the fact was that in practice, the more I didn't want to 
listen the more I heard. And when I Avas trying to read 
or reflect it was by no means exhilarating to my mind to 
hear from the next room that, " The la dy ce sel i a now 
si zed the weep on and all though the boor ly vil ly an re 
tain ed his vig gor ous hold she drew the blade through his 
fin gers and hoorl ed it far be hind her drip ping with 
jore." This sort of thing, kept up for an hour or so at a 
time, used to drive me nearly wild. On one particular 
night I was very tired and sleepy, and soon after I got into 
bed I dropped into a delightful slumber. But before long 
I was awakened by the fact that: " Sarah did not fi inch 
but grasp ed the heat ed i ron in her in ju red hand and 
when the ra bid an i mal ap proach ed she thrust the lu rid 
po ker in his — " 

" My conscience!" said I to Euphemia, " can't that girl 
be stopped?" 

" You wouldn't have her sit there and do nothing, would 
you?" said she. 

"No, but she needn't read that way." 

" She can't read any other way," said Euphemia drowsily. 

" Yell after yell re soun ded as he wild ly sp rang to 
wards her and — " 

" I can't stand that and I won't," said I. " Why don't 



Selections for Reading. 101 

she go into the kitchen? The dining-room^ no place for 
her." 

" She must not sit there/' said Euphemia. " There's a 
window-pane out. Can't you cover up your head?" 

"I shall riot be able to breathe if I do, but I suppose that's 
no matter/' I replied. 

The reading continued. 

"Ha, ha! Lord Mar mont thundered thou too shalt 
suf fer for all that this poor — " 

I sprang out of bed. 

Euphemia thought I was going for my pistol, and she 
gave one bound and stuck her head out of the door. 

" Pomona, fly!" she cried. 

" Yes, ma'am," said Pomona; and she got up and flew, 
though not very fast, I imagine. Where she flew to I don't 
know, but she took the lamp with her, and I could hear 
distinct syllables of agony and blood until she went to bed. 



A ROYAL PRINCESS. 

Christina G. Rossetti. 

I, A princess, king-descended, decked with jewels, gilded, drest, 

Would rather be a peasant with a baby at her breast, 

For all I shine so like the sun, and am purple like the west 

Two and two my guards behind; two and two before; 
Two and two on either hand, they guard me evermore; 
Me, poor dove, that must not coo; eagle that must not soar 

All my fountains cast up perfumes, all my gardens grow 
Scented woods and foreign spices, with all flowers in blow 
That are costly, out of season, as the seasons go. 



102 Selections for Reading, 

All my walls are lost in mirrors whereupon I trace 
Self to right hand, self to left hand ; self in every place, 
Self -same solitary figure, self -same seeking face, 

Then I have an ivory chair high to sit upon, 

Almost like my father's chair which is an ivory thronej 

There I sit upright and there I sit alone 

Alone by day, alone by night, alone days without end; 

My father and my mother give me treasures, search and spends 

O my father! O my mother! have you ne'er a friend? 

As I am a lofty princess, so my father is 

A lofty king, accomplished in all kingly subtilties, 

Holding in his strong right hand world-kingdom's balances. 

He has quarreled with his neighbors, he has scourged his foes; 
Vassal counts and princes follow where his pennon goes; 
Long-descended valiant lords, whom the vulture knows. 

On whose track the vulture swoops when they ride in state 
To break the strength of armies and topple down the great; 
Each of these my courteous servant, none of these my mate. 

My father, counting up his strength sets down with equal pen, 

So many head of cattle, head of horses, head of men ; 

These for slaughter, these for breeding, with the how and when. 

Some to work on roads, canals; some to man his ships; 
Some to smart in mines beneath sharp overseer's whips; 
Some to trap fur beasts in lands where utmost winter nips. 

Once it came into my heart and whelmed me like a flood 

That these too are men and women, human flesh and blood; 

Men with hearts and men with souls, though trodden down like mud. 

Our feasting was not glad that night, our music was not gay ; 
On my mother's graceful head I marked a thread of gray; 
My father, frowning at the fare, seemed every dish to weigh 



Selections for Reading. 103 

The singing men and women sang that night as usual ; 
The dancers danced in pairs and sets, but music had a fall — 
A melancholy, windy fall as at a funeral. 

Amid the toss of torches to my chamber back we swept; 

My ladies loosed my golden chain; meanwhile I could have wept 

To think of some in galling chains whether they waked or slept. 

A day went by, a week went by. One day I heard it said, 
"Men are clamoring, women, children, clamoring to be fed; 
Men like famished dogs are howling in the streets for bread." 

Other footsteps followed after with a weightier tramp; 

Voices said: " Picked soldiers have been summoned from the camp 

To quell these base-born ruffians who make free to howl and stamp." 

"Howl and stamp!" one answered. " They made free to hurl a stone 
At the minister's state coach, well aimed and stoutly thrown." 
"There's work, then, for the soldiers, for this rank crop must be 
mown." 

One I saw, a poor old fool with ashes on his head, 
"Whimpering because a girl had snatched his crust of bread; 
Then he dropped ; when some one raised him, it turned out that he 
was dead. 

These passed. The king. Stand up. Said my father with a smile, 
"Daughter mine, your mother comes to sit with you awhile; 
She is sad to-day, and who but you her sadness can beguile?" 

He too left me. Shall I touch my harp now while I wait 
(I hear them doubling guard below before our palace gate) — 
Or shall I work the last gold stitch into my veil of state? 

Or shall my women stand and read some unimpassioned scene — 
There's music of a lulling sort in words that pause between — 
Or shall she merely fan me while I wait here for the queen? 

Again I caught my father's voice in sharp word of command: 
" Charge!" a clash of steel. " Charge again, the rebels stand' 
Smite and spare not, hand to hand; smite and spare not, hand to 
hand!" 



104 Selections for Reading. 

There swelled a tumult at the gate, high voices waxing higher; 
A flash of red reflected light lit the cathedral spire; 
I heard a cry for fagots, then I heard a yell of fire. 

'•' Sit and roast there with your meat, sit and bake there with youi 

bread, 
You who sat to see us starve," one shrieking woman said; 
" Sit on your throne and roast with your crown upon your head. ,, 

Nay this thing will I do, while my mother tarrieth: 
I will take my fine spun gold, but not to sew therewith, 
I will take my gold and gems and rainbow fan and wreath; 

With a ransom in my lap, a king's ransom in my hand, 

I will go down to this people, will stand face to face, will stand 

Where they curse kiog, queen, and princess of this cursed land. 

They shall take all to buy them bread, take all I have to give; 
I, if I perish, perish; they to-day shall eat and live; 
I, if I perish, perish ; that's the goal I half conceive. 

Once to speak before the world, rend hare my heart and show 
The lesson I have learned which is death, is life, to know. 
I, if I perish, perish; in the name of God I go. 



DOLLY. 

Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

Our little Dolly was a late autumn chicken, the youngest 
of ten children, the nursing, rearing, and caring for whom 
had straitened the limited salary of Parson Cushing of 
Poganuc Center, and sorely worn on the nerves and strength 
of the good wife, who plied the laboring oar in these per- 
formances. 

It was Dolly's lot to enter the family at a period when 



Selections for Reading. 105 

babies were no longer a novelty; when the house was full of 
the wants and clamors of older children, and the mother at 
her very wits' end with a confusion of jackets and trowsers, 
soap, candles, and groceries and the endless harassments of 
making both ends meet which pertain to the lot of a poor 
country minister's wife. 

Although it never distinctly occurred to Dolly to murmur 
at her lot in life, yet at times she sighed oyer the dreadful 
insignificance of being only a little girl in a great family 
of grown-up people. For even Dolly's brothers were study- 
ing in the academy, and spouting scraps of superior Latin 
at her to make her stare and wonder at their learning. She 
was a robust little creature, and consequently received none 
of the petting which a more delicate child might have 
claimed. Once Dolly remembered to have had a sore throat 
with fever. The doctor was sent for. Her mother put 
away all her work and held her in her arms. Her father 
sat up rocking her nearly ail night, and her noisy, royster- 
ing brothers came softly to her door and inquired how she 
was. Dolly was only sorry that the cold passed off so soon, 
and she found herself healthy and insignificant as ever. 
Being gifted with an active fancy, she sometimes imagined 
a scene when she should be sick and die, and her father and 
mother and everybody would cry over her. She could see 
no drawback to the interest of the scene, except that she 
could not be there to enjoy her own funeral, and see how 
much she was appreciated. 

The parsonage had the advantage of three garrets- 
splendid ground for little people. There was first the 
garret over the kitchen, the floors of which in fall were 
covered with stores of yellow pumpkins, fragrant heaps of 
quinces, and less fragrant spread of onions. There were 
bins of shelled corn and of oats, and. as in every other gar- 



106 Selections for Heading. 

ret in the house, there were also barrels of old sermons and 
family papers. Garret number two was oyer the central 
portion of the house. There were piles of bed-quilts and 
comforters, and chests of blankets; rows and ranges of old 
bonnets and old hats that seemed to nod mysteriously from 
their nails. There were old spinning-wheels, an old clocks 
old arm-chairs and old pictures, snuffy and grim, and more 
barrels of sermons. In one corner hung in order the dried 
herbs — catnip and boneset and elder-blow and hardhack 
and rosemary and tansy and pennyroyal, all gathered at 
the right time of the moon, dried and sorted and tied in 
bundles hanging from their different nails — those canonized 
floral saints which when living filled the air with odors of 
health and sweetness, and whose very mortal remains and 
dry bones were supposed to haye healing virtues. 

Then those barrels of sermons and old pamphlets! Dolly 
had turned them over and over, upsetting them on the floor, 
and reading their titles with amazed eyes. It seemed to 
her that there were some thousands of the most unintelligi- 
ble things. , " An Appeal on the Unlawfulness of a Man's 
Marrying his Wife's Sister" turned up in every barrel which 
she investigated till her soul despaired of finding an end. 
Then there were Thanksgiving sermons; Fast-day sermons; 
sermons that discoursed on the battle of Culloden; on the 
character of Frederick the Great; a sermon on the death of 
George the Second, beginning, "George! George! George 
is no more!" This somewhat dramatic opening caused 
Dolly to put that one discourse into her private library. 
But, oh, joy and triumph! One rainy day she found at the 
bottom of an old barrel a volume of the "Arabian Nights." 
Henceforth her fortune was made. To read was with her a 
passion, and a book once read was read daily, always becom- 
ing dearer and dearer as an old friend. The " Arabian 



Selections for Reading. 107 

Nights" transported her to foreign lands, gave her a new 
life of her own; and when things went astray with her, 
when the boys went to play higher than she dared to climb 
in the barn or started on fishing excursions, where they 
considered her an incumbrance, then she found a snug 
corner, where she could at once sail forth on her bit of 
enchanted carpet into fairy-land. — Poganuc People. 



THE SEVEN DAYS. 

Frances L. Mace. 
Monday. 

{Day of the Moon.) 
Diana, sister of the Sun ! thy ray 

Governs these opening hours. The world is wide, 

We know not what new evil may betide 
This six days' journey; by what unknown way 
"We come at last unto the royal day 

Of prophesy and promise. Oh, preside 

Propitious, and our doubting footsteps guide 
Onward and sunward. Long in shadows gray 
We have but slumbered — hidden from our view 

Knowledge and wisdom in unfruitful night. 
But, if upon the dawn's unfolding blue 

Thy hand this day our destiny must write, 
Once more our outer, inward life renew 

With Heaven's first utterance — Let there be light, 

Tuesday 

{Day of the War- God.) 

Fear not, soul, to-day! Imperial Mars 
Leads on the hours, a brave and warlike train. 
Fire in his glance and splendor in his reign, 
From the first glitter through the sunrise bars 
Till his red banner names among the stars! 



108 Selections for Reading. 

Thou too go forth, and fully armed maintain 

Duty and right. The hero is not slain 
Though pierced and wounded in a hundred wars. 
The daring are the deathless. He alone 

Is victor who stays not for any doom 
Foreshadowed; utters neither sigh nor moan 

Death-stricken, but right onward, his fair plume 

Scorched in the battle flame, through smoke and gloom 
Strikes for the right, nor counts his life his own. 

Wednesday. 
(Day of Odin.) 

The mighty Odin rides abroad, and earth 

Trembles, and echoes back his ghostly sigh, 

More deep than thought, more sad than memory. 
The very birds rejoice in timid mirth, 
For in the forest sudden gusts have birth, 

And harsh against the pale, appealing sky 

Ascends his ravens' melancholy cry. 
Peace be with Odin. Of his ancient worth 
Many and proud the tales we will repeat, 

For sacred memories to these hours belong. 
But yesterday with reckless speed our feet 

Dared the bold height. With spirit no less strong 
To-day step softly. After battle's heat 

Warriors and wars are only themes for song. 

Thursday. 
(Day of the Mighty.) 

White-robed, white crowned, and borne by steeds snow-white 

The thunderer rolls across the echoing skies! 

No hour is this to dream of past surprise, 
Or with old runes the memory to delight. 
The mountain tops with prophet beams are bright, 

The eagle soars aloft with jubilant cries! 

Thou too; unto the hills lift up thine eyes; 



Selections for Reading. 109 

To some new throne these sacred signs invite. 
Learn thy own strength; and if some secret sense 

Of power untried pervades thy low estate, 
Bend thy soul's purest, best intelligence 

To seek the mastery of time and fate. 
Courage and deathless hope and toil intense 

Are the crown jewels of the truly great. 

Feiday. 

{Bay of the Beautiful.) 

In the world-garden walled with living green 

The foam-born goddess of delight to-day 

Plucks glowing garlands for her own array 
Poppy and myrtle in her wreath are seen, 
And roses, bending o'er her brow serene, 

Blush to perceive she is more fair than they. 

Sweet grasses at her feet their odors lay, 
While doves, low warbling, hover round their queen. 
In this brief life shall ever toil and care 

Hold fast our wishes? Earth's bewildering bowers. 
Her streams melodious and her woodlands fair 

Are palaces for gods. The world is ours! 
Beauty and love our birthright; we will share 

The sunshine and the singing and the flowers! 

Saturday 
{Day of Saturn.) 

Though bright with jewels and with garlands dressed 

The bloom decays, the world is growing old! 

Lost are the days when peaceful Saturn told 
The arts to men and shared their toil or rest 
With eloquence divine. The Olympian guest 

Took with him in his flight the age of gold! 

Westward through myriad centuries has rolled 
The ceaseless pilgrimage, the hopeless quest 
For the true Fatherland. Through weary years 



110 Selections for Reading. 

TV hat if some rainbow glory spans the gloom? 
Some strong, sweet utterance the wayside cheers? 

Or gladness opens like a rose in bloom? 
Step after ste'p the fatal moment nears; 

Earth for new graves is ever making room. 

Sunday. 
{Day of the Sun.) 
Thou glorious Sun, illumining the blue 

Highway of heaven! to thy triumphant rays 

The earth her shadow yields, the hill-tops blaze, 
Up lifts the mist, up floats the midnight dew. 
Old things are passed away ; the world is new ; 

Labor is changed to rest and rest to praise ; 

Past are the toilsome heights, the stormy days. 
The eternal Future breaks upon our view! 
Last eve we lingered uttering our farewells, 

But lo! One met us in the early light 
Of this divinest morn. The tale He tells 

Transfigures life; and opens heaven to sight. 
Bring altar flowers! Lilies and asphodels! 

Sing Jubilates! There is no more night! 

—Atlantic Monthly, 



TEIPLET AND FAMILY. 

Charles Keade. 

James Tkiplet, water in his eye, but fire in his heart, 
went home on wings. Arrived there he anticipated curi- 
osity by informing all hands that he should answer no 
questions. Only in the intervals of a work which was to 
take the family out of all their troubles, he should gradually 
unfold a tale verging on the marvelous — a tale whose only 
fault was that fiction, by which alone the family could hope 
to be great, paled beside it. He then seized some sheets of 



Selections for Reading. Ill 

paper, fished out some old dramatic sketches and a list of 
dramatis personce prepared years ago, and plunged into a 
comedy. 

Mrs. Triplet groaned aloud with a world of meaning. 

"Wife," said Triplet, "don't put me into a frame of 
mind in which successful comedies are not written." 

He scribbled away, but his wife's despondency told upon 
the man of disappointments. He stuck fast; then he be- 
came fidgety. 

" Do keep those children quiet!" said the father. 

"Hush, my dears," said the mother, "let your father 
write. Comedy seems to give you more trouble than 
tragedy, James," she added soothingly. 

" Yes," was his answer. " Sorrow comes somehow more 
natural to me. But for all that I have got a bright thought, 
Mrs. Triplet. Listen, all of you. You see, Jane, they are 
all at a sumptuous banquet — all the dramatis personce." 
Triplet went on writing and reading aloud. " Music, 
sparkling wine, massive plate, rose-water in the hand- 
glasses, soup, fish — shall I have three sorts of fish? I will. 
They are cheap in this market. Ah, Fortune, you wretch, 
here, at least, I am your master and I'll make you know it! 
Venison," wrote Triplet with a malicious grin, "game, 
pickles, etc. Then up jumps one of the guests and says 
he—" 

" Oh, dear! I'm so hungry!" 

This was not from the comedy, but from one of the boys. 

"And so am I!" cried a girl. 

" That is an absurd remark, Lysimachus," said Triplet 
with a suspicious calmness. " How can a boy be hungry 
three hours after breakfast?" 

" But, father, there was no breakfast for breakfast." 

"Now I ask you, Mrs. Triplet," appealed the author, 



112 Selections for Reading. 

"how I am to write comic scenes if Lysimachus and Kox- 
alana here putin the heavy business every five minutes ?" 

" Forgive them — the poor things are hungry." 

" Then let them be hungry in another room/' said the 
irritated scribe. " They shan't cling round my pen and par- 
alyze it just when it is going to make all our fortunes; but 
you women/' snapped Triplet the Just, " have no consider- 
ation for people's feelings! Send them all to bed — every 
man Jack of them." 

Finding the conversation taking this turn, the children 
raised a unanimous howl. 

Triplet darted a fierce glance at them. 

" Hungry! hungry!" cried he, " is that a proper expres- 
sion to use before a father who is sitting down here all 
gayety "—scratching wildly with his pen — "and hilarity — 
to write a com — comedy — " he choked a moment, and then 
in a very different tone, all sadness and tenderness, he said, 
" Where's the youngest? Where's Lucy? As if I didn't 
know you were hungry!" 

Lucy came to him directly. He took her on his knee, 
pressed her gently to his side and wrote silently. 

" Father," s&id Lucy, aged five, the germ of a woman, 
"lam not so very hungry." 

"And I'm not hungry at all," said bluff Lysimachus, 
taking his sister's cue, and then going upon his own tack he 
added, "I had a great piece of bread and butter yesterday." 

" Play us a tune on the fiddle, father," said Lucy. 

"Aye, do, husband. That helps you often in your 
writing." 

Lysimachus brought the fiddle, and Triplet essayed a 
merry tune; but it came out so doleful that he shook his 
head and laid the instrument down. 

" No," said he, " let us be serious and finish this comedy 



Selections for Reading. 113 

slap off. Perhaps it hitches because I forgot to invoke the 
comic muse. She must be a black-hearted jade if she 
doesn't come with merry notions to a poor devil, starving 
in the midst of his starving little ones." 

" We are past help from heathen goddesses/' said the 
woman. " We must pray to Heaven to look down upon us 
and our children. " 

The man looked up with a very bad expression on his 
countenance. 

" You forget/' said he, sullenly, " Our street is very 
narrow and the opposite houses are very high." 

" James!" 

" How can Heaven be expected to see what honest folk 
endure in such a hole as this?" cried the man fiercely. 

" James!" said the woman with fear and sorrow, " what 
words are these ?" 

The man rose and flung his pen upon the floor. 

" Have we given honesty a fair trial — yes or no?" 

" No," said the woman without a moment's hesitation, 
" not till we die as we have lived. Children," said she, lest 
perchance her husband's words should have harmed their 
young souls, " the sky is above the earth, and Heaven is 
higher than the sky, and Heaven is just." 

" I suppose it is so," said the man, a little cowed by her. 
" Everybody says so, but I can't see it; I want to see it, but 
I can't," cried he fiercely. " Have my children offended 
Heaven? They will starve! They will die! If I was 
Heaven I would be just and send an angel to take these 
children's part. They cried to me for bread — I had no 
bread, so I gave them hard words. The moment I had 
done that I knew it was all over. God knows it took a 
long while to break my heart, but it is broken at last — quite, 
quite broken!" 



114 Selections for Reading. 

The poor man laid his head upon the table and sobbed 
beyond all power of restraint. The children cried round 
him, scarce knowing why, and Mrs. Triplet could only 
say, " My poor husband!" and prayed and wept upon the 
couch where she lay. 

It was at this juncture that a lady who had knocked 
gently, and unheard, opened the door and with a light step 
entered the apartment. 

" Wasn't somebody inquiring for an angel just now? 
Here I am! See, Mr. Triplet!" 

"Mrs. Woffington," said Triplet, rising and introducing 
her to his wife. Mrs. Woffington planted herself in the 
middle of the floor, and with a comical glance, setting her 
arms akimbo, uttered a shrill whistle. 

" Now you will see another angel — there are two sorts of 
them." 

Her black servant Pompey came in with a basket. She 
took it from him. 

" I heard that you were ill, ma'am, and I have brought 
you some medicine from Burgundy. Mrs. Triplet, will you 
allow me to eat my luncheon with you? I am very hungry. " 
Turning towards Pompey she sent him out for a pie which 
she professed she had fallen in love with at the corner of 
the street. 

" Mother," said Alcibiades, " will the lady give me a bit 
of her pie?" 

"Hush! you rude boy!" cried the mother. 

" She is not much of a lady if she does not," cried Mrs. 
Woffington. "Eat away, children. Now's your time! 
When once I begin the pie will soon end." 

Lucy said gravely, " The lady is very funny. Do you 
ever cry, pretty lady?" 

" Oh, of course not," ironically. 



Selections for Reading. 115 

" Comedy is crying/' said Lucy, confidentially. "Father 
cried all the time lie was writing his one." 

Triplet turned red as fire. 

"Hold your tongue!" said he. "I was bursting with 
merriment. Wife, our children, talk too much; they put 
their noses into everything and criticise their own father. 
And when they take up a notion, Socrates couldn't con- 
vince them to the contrary. For instance, Madame, all this 
morning they thought fit to assume that they were starving." 

" So we were," said Lysimachus, " till the angel came 
and then sent out for a pie." 

" There — there — there — now you mark my words," said 
Triplet. " We shall never get that idea out of their 
heads — " 

" Until," said Mrs. Woffington, putting another huge 
piece of pie into Koxalana's plate, " we put a very different 
idea into their stomachs." This and the look she cast 
upon Mrs. Triplet fairly caught that good though somber 
personage. She giggled, put her hand to her face and said, 
" I'm sure I ask your pardon, ma'am." 

It was no use. The comedian had determined that they 
should all laugh and they were made to laugh. Their first 
feeling was wonder. Were they the same who ten minutes 
ago were weeping together? Yes! Ten minutes ago they 
were rayless, joyless, hopeless. Now the sun was in their 
hearts, and sighing and sorrow had fled away. It was 
magical! Could a mortal play upon the soul of man, 
woman, and child like this? Happy Mrs. Woffington! And 
suppose this was more than half acting, but such actiug as 
Triplet never dreamed of? If it were art, glory to such art 
so worthily applied, and honor to such creatures as this, 
that come like sunshine into poor men's homes, and turn 
drooping hearts to happiness and hope. — Peg Woffington. 



116 Selections for Reading. 



THE NOBILITY OF LABOK. 
Thomas Carlyle. 

Two men I honor, and no third. First the toilworn 
Craftsman that with earth-made Implement laboriously con- 
quers the Earth and makes her man's. Venerable to me is 
the hard hand, crooked, coarse; wherein, notwithstanding, 
lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the Scepter 
of this Planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all 
weather-tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence, for it 
is the face of a Man living manlike. Oh, but the more 
venerable for thy rudeness, and even because we must pity 
as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us 
was thy back so bent; for us were thy straight limbs and 
fingers so deformed; thou wert our Conscript, on whom the 
lot fell, and fighting our battles wert so marred. For in 
thee, too, lay a god-created Form, but it was nob to be un- 
folded; incrusted must it stand with the thick adhesions 
and defacements of Labor, and thy body like thy soul was 
not to know freedom. Yet toil on, toil on; thou art in thy 
duty, be out of it who may; thou toilest for the altogether 
indispensable — for daily bread. 

A second man I honor, and still more highly; Him who 
is seen toiling for the spiritually indispensable, not daily 
bread, but the bread of life. Is not he, too, m his duty; 
endeavoring towards inward Harmony; revealing this by 
act or by word, through all his outward endeavors, be they 
high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and inward 
endeavor are one; when we can name him Artist, not 
earthly Craftsman only, but inspired Thinker, who with 
heaven-made Implement conquers Heaven for us. If the 
poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the 



Selections for Reading. 117 

high and glorious toil for him in return, that he have Light, 
have Guidance, Freedom, and Immortality? These two in 
all their degrees I honor; all else is chaff and dust, which 
let the wind blow whither it listest. 

Unspeakably touching is it, however, when I find both 
dignities united; and he that must toil outwardly for the 
lowest of man's wants, is also toiling inwardly for the 
highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing than a 
Peasant Saint, could such now anywhere be met with. Such 
a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself; thou wilt see 
the splendor of Heaven spring forth from the humblest 
depths of Earth, like a light shining in great darkness. 

It is not because of his toils that I lament for the poor. 
We must all toil or steal (how r soeyer we name our stealing), 
which is worse; no faithful workman finds his task a pas- 
time. The poor is hungry and athirst; but for him also 
there is food and drink; he is heavy-laden and weary; but 
for him also the Heavens send Sleep and of the deepest; in 
his smoky cribs, a clear, dewy heaven of Eest envelops him, 
and fitful glitterings of cloud-skirted Dreams. But what I 
do mourn over is, that the lamp of his soul should go out; 
that no ray of heavenly, or even of earthly knowledge, 
should visit him; but only in the haggard darkness, like 
two specters, Fear and Indignation bear him company. 
Alas! while the Body stands so broad and brawny, must the 
Soul lie blinded, dwarfed, stupefied, almost annihilated? 
Alas! was this too a Breath of God; bestowed in heaven, 
but on earth never to be unfolded? That there should one 
Man die ignorant who had capacity for knowledge, this I 
call a tragedy, were it to happen more than twenty times in 
the minute, as by some computation it does. — Sartor Re- 
sartus. 



118 Selections for Reading. 

ABRAHAM DAVENPORT. 

John G. Whittier. 

In the old days (a custom laid aside 
With breeches and cocked hats) the people sent 
Their wisest men to make the public laws. 
And so from a brown homestead where the Sound 
Drinks the small tribute of the Mianas, 
Waved over by the woods of Rippowams, 
And hallowed by pure lives and tranquil deaths, 
Stamford sent to the Councils of the State 
Wisdom and grace in Abraham Davenport. 

'Twas on a May-day of the far old year 

Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell 

Over the bloom and sweet life of the Spring, 

Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon, 

A horror of great darkness, like the night 

In day of which the Norland sages tell ; — 

The Twilight of the Gods. The low-hung sky 

Was black with ominous clouds, save where its rim 

Was fringed with a dull glow, like that which climbs 

The crater's sides from the red hell below. 

Birds ceased to sing, and all the barnyard fowls 

Roosted ; the cattle at the pasture bars 

Lowed and looked homeward. Bats on leathern wing£ 

Flitted abroad ; the sounds of labor died ; 

Men prayed and women wept ; all ears grew sharp 

To hear the doom-blast of the trumpet shatter 

The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ 

Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked 

A loving guest at Bethany, but stern 

As Justice and inexorable Law. 

Meanwhile in the old State House, dim as ghosts 
Sat the law-givers of Connecticut, 
Trembling beneath their legislative robes. 



Selections for Reading, 119 

'" It is the Lord's Great Day! Let us adjourn! " 
Some said; and then, as if with one accord 
All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport. 
He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice 
The intolerable hush. " This well may be 
The Day of Judgment which the world awaits; 
But be it so or not, I only know 
My present duty and my Lord's command 
To occupy till He come. So at the post 
Where He has set me in His providence, 
I choose, for one, to meet Him face to face, — 
No faithless servant frightened from my task, 
But ready when the Lord of the harvest calls; 
And therefore, with all reverence, I would say, 
Let God do His work, we will see to ours. 
Bring in the candles. " And they brought them in, 

Then by the flaring lights the Speaker read, 
Albeit with husky voice and shaking hands, 
An act to amend an act to regulate 
The shad and alewive fisheries. Whereupon 
Wisely and well spake Abraham Davenport 
Straight to the question, with no figures of speech 
Save the ten Arab signs, yet not without 
The shrewd, dry humor natural to the man, 
His awe-struck colleagues listening all the while,. 
Between the pauses of his argument, 
To hear the thunder of the wrath of God 
Break from the hollow trumpet of the cloud. 
And there he stands in memory to this day, 
Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen 
Against the background of unnatural dark, 
A witness to the ages as they pass 
That simple duty hath no place for fear. 



120 Selections for Reading. 

CHAMOTJNI. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star 
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause 
On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign Blanc! 
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base 
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form! 
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, 
How silently! Around thee and above, 
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, 
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, 
As with a wedge. But when I look again, 
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, 
Thy habitation from eternity ! 

dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee, 
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, 

Didst vanish from my thought; entranced in prayer, 

1 worshipped the Invisible alone. 

Yet, like some sweet, beguiling melody, — 

So sweet we know not we are listening to it,— 

Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my thought 

Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy; 

Till the dilatiug soul, enrapt, transfused, 

Into the mighty vision passing — there, 

As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven. 

Awake, my soul! Not only passive praise 
Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, 
Mute thanks, and silent ecstasy! Awake, 
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake! 
Green vales and icy cliffs! all join my hymn. 

Thou, first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale! 
O, struggling with the darkness of the night, 
And visited all night by troops of stars, 
Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink — 



Selections for Heading. 121 

Companion of the morning star at dawn, 
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn 
Co-herald — wake! O wake! and utter praise! 
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth? 
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light? 
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams? 

And you, ye five wild torrents, fiercely glad! 

Who called you forth from night and utter death, 

From dark and icy caverns called you forth, 

Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks, 

Forever shattered, and the same forever? 

Who gave you your invulnerable life? 

Your strength, your speed, your iury, and your joy, 

Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam? 

And who commanded, — and the silence came, — 

" Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest "? 

Ye ice-falls! ye, that, from the mountain's brow, 

Adown enormous ravines slope amain, — 

Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, 

And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! 

Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! 

Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven 

Beneath the keen, full moon? Who bade the sun 

Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers 

Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? 

" God! " let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 

Answer: and let the ice-plains echo, " God! " 

•" God! " sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice 

Ye pine groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! 

And they, too, have a voice, yon piles of snow. 

And, in their perilous fall, shall thunder, " God!" 

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost! 
Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! 
Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain-storm! 
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds! 
Ye signs and wonders of the elements! 
Utter forth " God!" and fill the hills with praise! 



122 Selections for Reading. 

Once more, hoar mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, 

Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, 

Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene 

Into the depths of clouds, that veil thy breast — 

Thou too, again, stupendous mountain! thou 

That as I raise my head, awhile bowed low 

In adoration, upward from thy base 

Slow traveling with dim eyes suffused with tears,— 

Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud, 

To rise before me — Rise, O, ever rise! 

Rise, like a cloud of incense, from the earth! 

Thou kingly spirit, throned among the hills! 

Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, 

Great Hierarch, tell thou the silent sky. 

And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 

" Earth, with her thousand voices, praises God." 



OUR NEW LIVERY, AND OTHER THINGS. 
Geo. Wm. Curtis. 

My Dear Caroline: — Lent came so frightfully early 
this year that I was very much afraid my new bonnet would 
not be out from Paris soon enough. But fortunately it 
arrived just in time, and I had the satisfaction of taking 
down the pride of Mrs. Croesus, who fancied hers would be 
the only stylish hat in church the first Sunday. She could 
not keep her eyes away from me, and I sat so unmoved, and 
so calmly looking at the Doctor, that she was quite vexed. 
But whenever she turned away Iran my eyes over the whole 
congregation, and — would you believe it? — almost without 
an exception people had on their old things! However, I 
suppose they forgot how soon Lent was coming. 

I've so many things to tell you that I hardly know where 
to begin. The great thing is the livery, but I want to come 



Selections for Heading. 123 

regularly up to that and forget nothing by the way. I was 
uncertain for a long time how to have my prayer-book 
bound. Finally after thinking about it a great deal I con- 
cluded to haye it done in pale blue velvet with gold clasps 
and a gold cross upon the side. To be sure it's nothing 
very new. But what is new nowadays? Sally Shrimp has 
had hers done in emerald, and I know Mrs. Croesus will 
have crimson for hers, and those people who sit next us in 
church have a kind of morocco binding. I must tell you 
one reason why I fixed upon the pale blue. You knew that 
aristocratic young man in white cravat and black pantaloons 
and waistcoat whom we saw at Saratoga a year ago, and 
who always had such a beautiful sanctimonious look and 
such small white hands. Well, he is a minister, as we sup- 
posed, " an unworthy candidate, an unprofitable husband- 
man," as he calls himself in that delicious voice of his. He 
has been quite taken up among us. He has been asked a 
good deal to dinner, and there was talk of his being settled 
as colleague to the Doctor. 

Well, I told him that I wished to take his advice upon 
something connected with the church. When I asked him 
in what velvet he would advise me to have my prayer-book 
bound, he talked beautifully for about twenty minutes. I 
wish you could have heard him. I'm not sure that I un- 
derstood much of what he said, but it was very beautiful. 
Well, by and by he said, " Therefore, dear Mrs. Potiphar, 
as your faith is so pure and childlike, and as I observe that 
the light from the yellow panes usually falls across your 
pew, I would advise that you symbolize your faith by bind- 
ing your prayer-book in pale blue, the color of skim milk, 
dear Mrs. Potiphar, which is so full of pastoral associations." 

What gossips we women are to be sure! I meant to write 
you about our new livery, and I'm afraid I have tired you 



124 Selections for Reading. 

out already. You remember when you were here I said 
that I meant to have a livery; for my sister Margaret told 
me that when they used to drive in Hyde Park with the 
old Marquis of Mammon it was always so delightful to hear 
him say, 

" Ah! there is Lady Lobster's livery!" 

I told the Eeverend Cream Cheese that as he had already 
assisted me in colors once, I should be most glad to have 
him do so again. What a time we had, to be sure, talking 
of colors and cloths and gaiters and buttons and knee- 
breeches and waistcoats and plush and coats and lace and 
hatbands and gloves and cravats and cords and tassels and 
hats! Oh, it was delightful. 

I determined to have red plush breeches, with a black 
cord at the side, white stockings, low shoes with large 
buckles, a yellow waistcoat with large buttons, lappels to 
the pockets and a purple coat very full and fine, bound with 
gold lace, and the hat banded with a full gold rosette. 
Don't you think that would look well in Hyde Park? And 
why shouldn't we have in Broadway what they have in 
Hyde Park? 

So now, Caroline dear, I have my livery and my footman, 
and am as good as anybody. It's very splendid when I go to 
Stewart's to have the red plush and the purple and the 
white calves springing down to open the door, and to see 
people look and say, "I wonder who that is!" And every- 
body bows so nicely, and the clerks are so polite, and Mrs. 
Gnu is melting with envy on the other side, and Mrs. 
Settum Downe says, "Is that the Potiphar livery? Ah, 
yes, Mr. Potiphar's grandfather used to shoe my grand- 
father's horses." Then I step out and James throws open 
the door, and the young men raise their hats and the new 
crowd says, " I wonder who that is!" and the plush and 



Selections for Reading. 125 

the purple and the calves spring up behind and I drive home 
to dinner. 

Now, Carrie, dear, isn't that nice? Well, I don't know 
how it is, but things are so queer. Sometimes when I wake 
up in the morning in my room, which I have had tapestried 
with fluted rose silk, and lie thinking, under the lace cur- 
tains; although I may have been to one of Mrs. GnuV 
splendid parties the night before, and am going to Mrs. 
Silkes to dinner, and to Mrs. Settum Downe's and the oper? 
in the evening, and have nothing to do all day but go ta 
Stewart's and shop and pay morning calls, — do you know, 
as I say, that sometimes I hear an old familiar tune played 
upon a hand organ far away in some street, and it seems to 
me in that half-drowsy state under the laces that I hear 
the boys and girls singing it in the fields where we used to 
play. 

I doze again until Adele comes in and opens the shutters. 
I do not hear the music any more, but those days I do some- 
times seem to hear it all the time. Of course Mr. Potiphar 
is gone long before I wake, so he knows nothing of all this. 
I generally come in at night after he is asleep, and he goes 
down town before I wake in the morning. He comes home 
to dinner, but he is apt to be silent; and after dinner he 
takes his nap in the parlor over his newspaper, while I go 
up and let Adele dress my hair for the evening. So I don't 
see a great deal of him except in the summer when I am at 
Saratoga or Newport; and then not so much, after all, for 
he usually comes only to pass Sunday, and I must be a 
good Christian you know and go to church. On the whole 
we have not a very intimate acquaintance, but I have a 
great respect for him. He told me the other day that he 
should make at least thirty thousand dollars this year. 

I am very sorry I can't write you a longer letter. I want 



126 Selections for Reading. 

to consult you about wearing gold powder like the new 
empress. It would kill Mrs. Croesus if you and I should 
be the first to come out in it; and don't you +hink the effect 
would be fine when we were dancing, to shower the gold 
mist around us? How it would sparkle on the gentlemen's 
black coats. Our little Fred is down with scarlet fever. I 
hope it won't spoil his complexion. I don't go into the 
room, but the nurse tells me through the keyhole how he 
is. I have a thousand things to say, but I know you must 
be tired to death. 

Fondly yours, 

Polly Potiphar. 
— A letter from Mrs. Potiphar to a friend in Paris. 



TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. 

Gerald Massey. 

High hopes that burn'd like stars sublime, 

Go down i' the heavens of freedom; 
And true hearts perish in the time 

"We bitterliest need 'em! 
But never sit we down and say, 

There's nothing left but sorrow: 
We walk the wilderness to-day — 

The promised land to-morrow! 

Our birds of song are silent now, 

There are no flowers blooming, 
Yet life holds in the frozen bough, 

And freedom's spring is coming; 
And freedom's tide comes up alway, 

Though we may strand in sorrow: 
And our good bark, aground to-day, 

Shall float again to-morrow. 



Selections for Reading. 127 

Through all the long, long night of years 

The people's cry ascendeth, 
And earth is wet with blood and tears; 

But our meek suffering endeth ! 
The few shall not forever sway — 

The many moil in sorrow ; 
The powers of hell are strong to-day, 

But Christ shall rise to-morrow! 

Though hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes 

With smiling futures glisten ! 
For lo ! our day bursts up the skies — 

Lean out your souls and listen ! 
The world rolls freedom's radiant way, 

And ripens with her sorrow ; 
Keep heart ! who bear the Cross to-day, 

Shall wear the Crown to-morrow I 

O youth, flame-earnest, still aspire 

With energies immortal! 
To many a heaven of desire 

Our yearning opes a portal; 
And though age wearies by the way, 

And hearts break in the furrow, 
We'll sow the golden grain to-day— 

The harvest reap to-morrow I 

Build up heroic lives, and all 

Be like a sheathen saber, 
Beady to flash out at God's call — 

O chivalry of labor! 
Triumph and toil are twins,; and aye 

Joy suns the cloud of sorrow, 
And 'tis the martyrdom to-day 

Brings victory to-morrow I 



128 Selections for Beading. 



THE DOOM OF CLAUDIUS AND CYNTHIA. 
Maurice Thompson. 

It was in the mid-splendor of the reign of the Emperor 
Commodus. The emperor was quite easily flattered and 
more easily insulted. Especially desirous of being ac- 
counted the best swordsman and the most fearless gladi- 
ator in Kome, he still better enjoyed the reputation of 
being the incomparable archer. It cam, therefore, be well 
understood how Claudius, by publicly boasting that he was 
a better archer than Commodus, had brought upon him- 
self the calamity of a public execution. 

The rumor was abroad in Borne that on a certain night 
a most startling scene would be enacted in the circus. 
The result was that on this particular night the vast 
building was crowded at an early hour. Commodus him- 
self, surrounded by a great number of his favorites, sat 
on a high, richly cushioned throne, prepared for him 
about midway one side of the vast inclosure. All was 
still, as if the multitude were breathless with expectancy. 
Presently, out from one of the openings, a young man 
and a young woman, — a mere girl, — their hands bound 
behind them, were led forth upon the sand of the arena, 
and forced to walk around the entire circumference of 

the place. 

At length the giant curcuit was completed, and the 
two were left standing on the sand, distant about one 
hundred and twenty feet from the emperor, who now 
arose and in a loud voice said: " Behold the condemned 
Claudius and Cynthia, whom he lately took for his wife. 
The crime for which they are to die is a great one. 
Claudius has publicly proclaimed that he is a better 



Selections for Reading. 129 

archer than I, Commodus, am. I am the emperor and 
the incomparable archer of Eome. Whoever disputes it 
dies and his wife dies with him. It is decreed." It was 
enough to touch the heart of even a Eoman to see the 
tender innocence of that fair girl's face as she turned it 
up in speechless, tearless, appealing grief and anguish to 
her husband's. 

Immediately a large cage containing two fierce-eyed 
and famished tigers was brought into the arena and 
placed before the victims. The hungry beasts growled 
and howled, lapping their tongues and plunging up 
against the door. A murmur ran all round that vast 
ellipse — a murmur of remonstrance and disgust; for now 
everyone saw that the spectacle was to be a foul murder 
without even the show of a struggle. 

Then a sound came from the cage which no words can 
ever describe, — the hungry howl, the clashing teeth, the 
hissing breath of the tigers, along with a sharp clang of 
the iron bars spurned by their rushing feet. The circus 
fairly shook with the plunge of Death toward its victims. 
Look for a brief moment upon the picture: fifty thousand 
faces or more thrust forward gazing, the helpless couple, 
lost to everything but the horrors of death, quivering 
from foot to crown. ISTote the spotless beauty and the 
unselfish love of the girl. Mark well the stern power of 
the young man's face. Think how sweet life must be to 
them on the threshold of marriage. And now, oh! now 
look at those bounding, flaming-eyed tigers. 

There came from the place where Commodus stood a 
clear musical note, such as might have come from the 
gravest chord of a lyre if powerfully struck, closely fol- 
lowed by a keen, far-reaching hiss, like the whisper of 



130 Selections for Beading. 

fate, ending in a heavy blow. The multitude caught 
breath and stared. The foremost tiger, while yet in 
mid-air, curled itself up with a gurgling cry of utter pain, 
and with blood gushing from its eyes, ears, and mouth 
fell heavily down, dying. Again the sweet, insinuating 
twang, the hiss, and the stroke. The second beast fell 
dead or dying upon the first. This explained all. The 
emperor had demonstrated his right to be called the 
Koyal Bowman of the World. 

" Lead them out and set them free! " he cried in a loud, 
heartless voice. " Lead them out and tell it everywhere 
that Commodus is the Incomparable Bowman of the 
World." 

And then, when it was realized that the lovers had not 
been hurt, a great stir began, and out from a myriad 
overjoyed and admiring hearts leaped a storm of thanks, 
while with clash and bray of musical instruments, and 
with voices like the voices of winds and seas, and with a 
clapping of hands like the rending roar of tempests, the 
vast audience arose as one person and applauded the 
emperor. 

NATUKE'S ALTKUIST. 

Mme. El De Louie. 

This selection is based on an incident related by General Kershaw : "It 
was the last day of the battle of Fredericksburg. It had been a bloody 
fight, and our men were worn and exhausted with the heat and the struggle 
through which we had passed. I was at headquarters, when John Kirklan 
eame rushing in, saying excitedly ": 

"General Kershaw, I can't stand this! 

It's terrible! too terrible! " 

(Burying his face between his hands.) 



Selections for Reading. 131 

" Why, man," I quick replied, " I hope 

You're not " " A coward, general, 

Would you say of me? For God's 'sake, 

No! You know I am no coward 

To fear a ball, or shrapnel shell; 

But if it's cowardice to feel 

Another's suffering and pain, — 

Altho' that other be my foe, — 

Then, general, brand me CoicardJolin." 

I stood in mute surprise the while 

He spoke with eagerness and force. 

No one of all my men so brave 

Had shown more courage on the field. 

In all the thickest of the fray 

John Kirklan stood and fought that day. 

I could but wonder at his grief, 

And ask'd what lay beyond his strength, 

Too terrible for him to bear? 

" This, general, this: Permission give 

For me to take some water there," — 

Motioning with his battered thumb 

To where the wounded Federals lay 

Outside our breastwork, just in front, — 

" I cannot bear their groans and cries 

For ' water, water — just a sip 

Of water! ' — perishing, dying 

For water, here within my reach. 

Say quickly, general, ' Yes '; and bid 

Me go. I beg you grant me leave; 

Their cries are more than I can bear." 

He almost wept, so tremulous 

His voice with sympathy and grief. 

With quickening breath — which I controlled 

In speech — I calmly said: " Kirklan, 

You must know such recklessness would 

Be almost sure of certain death — 

I doubt the right to grant your 'quest." 

" 'Tis but humane! I fear no risk! 

O General Kershaw, speak the word 



132 Selections for Reading. 

And bid me go — you won't refuse? " 

Intently gazing in my eye, 

He must have read the free consent 

My heart would speak, not words implied; 

So throbbed my pulse (as I the man 

Admired) of speech I was denied. 

Without a word he grasped canteens 

And filled them, dripping to the brim. 

He mounts the breastworks! Now he's crossed- 

Heroic man ! Have care ! Look out ! 

There comes a shot and there's another, 

And now a volley follows others. 

Ah, John Kirklan ! You've cast your die. 

What, unhurt! He turns — his courage 

Fails! He's coming back! I smile. "Ah!" 

(Perhaps with just a curl of scorn, 

Expressive of the thought). " You're back! " 

" General, may I my 'kerchief raise? 

I fear the wounded boys they'll hurt! " 

Oh, Heaven! Could I the thought recall! 

How insignificant I felt. 

With shame I turn my head aside, 

And with an air of nonchalance, 

In tones I meant should be most gruff: 

44 No, Kirklan, no! No flag of truce 

For this occasion must be used! " 

Again, and still again, the parapet 

He climbed, and to the sick and wounded 

Lying there in death's embrace, with 

Parched throats and quivering breath, 

Like good Samaritan of old, 

To each sick, suffering Unionist, 

He water gave, and slaked their thirst. 

With grateful hearts they recognized 

His tender care; in trembling tones 

And tearful eyes expressed their thanks. 

And still John Kirklan went and came, 

Till every wounded man had drunk 

Enough his burning thirst to quench. 



Selections for Beading. 133 

When cheering for the " blue and gray" 
Who fought this internecine strife, 
I'll give a " hip huzza " and " three 
Times three " for him, the true and brave, 
Who in the midst of war forgot 
His brother-man was still a foe 
When he, with anguish overcome, 
For water cried, and hazarding 
His life for charity's sweet sake, 
Begged their sufferings he might soothe. 
Honor to thy blest memory, 
John Kirklan, Nature's altruist! 



EULOGY ON HENRY WARD BEECHER. 

Joseph Parker, D. D. 

At one of the public meetings addressed by Mr. 
Beecher in England an organized opposition had taken 
possession of part of the hall. Six thousand people 
crowded the noble auditorium. The only self-possessed 
man in the seething mass was Mr. Beecher himself. 
" Mr. Chairman," said he, and instantly the hiss and 
groan of opposition were heard; " Mr. Chairman," and 
again the angry storm mingled with the enthusiastic and 
reverberating cheers. In a moment Mr. Beecher's whole 
aspect changed. He was determined to " mount the 
whirlwind and direct the storm " ; so, advancing still 
nearer to the front of the platform, he exclaimed, 
" My friends, we will have an all-night session, but we 
will be heard." That suited the English temper, and 
the whole audience broke out into a thunder of applause 
which plainly said, " Heard you shall be, though the 
enemy be hurled into the murky night." The inspired 



134 Selections for Reading. 

orator spoke, expounded, appealed, fought, and con- 
quered, and then sat down in such a storm of cheers as 
probably cannot be heard out of England. 

With Pauline astuteness, he conciliated his English 
audiences by exclaiming, " We bring back American 
sheaves, but the seed corn we got in England; and if, in 
a larger sphere and under circumstances of unobstruc- 
tion, we have reared mightier harvests, every sheaf con- 
tains the grain that has made old England rich for a 
hundred years." Then again he changed his tone, 
and said: " We ask no help and no hindrance. If you 
do not send us a man, we do not ask for a man. If you 
do not send us another pound of gunpowder, we are able 
to make our own gunpowder. If you do not send us 
another musket or cannon, we have cannon that can carry 
five miles already." When, after a minute historical state- 
ment, he said: " Then came that ever memorable period 
when the Fugitive Slave Bill was passed. Against that 
infamy my soul revolted and these lips protested, and I 
defied the government to its face and told them: 'I will 
execute none of your unrighteous law. Send to me a 
fugitive who is fleeing from his master, and I will step 
between him and his pursuer/ " — we saw the philanthro- 
pist who was neither to be bribed nor threatened into 
silence. And when he added, " Not once or twice have 
my doors been shut between oppressor and the oppressed; 
and the church itself over which I minister has been the 
unknown refuge of many and many a one," — we felt that 
he conferred upon Plymouth Church a fame prouder 
than the renown which had been created for it by his own 
matchless eloquence. 

When we heard of the transformation of Plymouth 



Selections for Beading. 135 

Church into a paradise as the dead body of the immortal 
preacher lay there, we said surely this man was a poet, 
or so lovely a crown would not have been fashioned in 
his honor. When we heard the muffled drums and the 
measured tramp of soldiers, and saw the furled and 
draped banners, and watched five hundred men march 
to the house of death, we said surely a soldier has fallen 
— a man, an officer, of whom his comrades were proud. 
And when we saw the colored clergymen of Brooklyn 
bowed down in sacred grief as they resolved to participate 
in the honors of the memorial, we said surely this man 
was a philanthropist and an emancipator of his brethren. 
So he was. He was poet and soldier and statesman and a 
deliverer of bondsmen. He was great in every aspect; 
great when he spoke in the name of the united nation at 
Sumter, great when he denounced the sin of slavery, 
great when he opened his mouth for the dumb, great 
when he called his mutilated country back to brother- 
hood and mutual trust, great in prayer, great in suffering, 
great when he pronounced the matchless eulogy on Grant 
— always great. 

Every man who knew Mr. Beecher fixes his attention 
upon some incident or sermon or prayer or speech which 
best represents the genius or the heart of the man. Had 
I an artist at command I could order pictures that gold 
would never buy. I could say to the artist: paint him 
in conversation, with all the April variety of his face, 
constant only in its truthfulness. Catch above all things 
the smile: the smile which began so far away, so dawn- 
like, and broadened into a summer morning. painter, 
let me charge thee to seize that spirit smile. But, failing, I 
would have thee gather thy strength for one supreme 



136 Selections for Reading, 

effort; nay/a miracle. Invoke all the ancestors of art and 
bid them help thee. Paint the church in which he worked; 
the Sunday benediction has been pronounced; the sun has 
long retired; the white-haired pastor lingers that he may 
have an extra benediction through the medium of music; 
his eyes are full of tears; two little children unconsciously 
approach him and stand quite near; he turns, he sees 
them, he lays a hand on each young head; then he kisses 
the wayfarers, and with his hand upon them or around 
them the three walk away together, one of them never 
to return. 



THE GOOD OF IT. 

(A Cynic's Song.) 
Dinah Mulock Craik. 

Some men strut proudly, all purple and gold, 
Hiding queer deeds 'neath a cloak of good fame; 

I creep along braving hunger and cold 
To keep my heart stainless as well as my name. 
So, so, where is the good of it? 

Some clothe bare Truth in tine garments of words, 
Fetter her free limbs with cumbersome state. 

With me, let me sit at the lordliest boards. 

" I love" means, I love; and " I hate" means, I hate; 
But, but, where is the good of it? 

Some have rich dainties and costly attire, 
Guests fluttering round them and duns at the door. 

I crouch alone at my plain board and fire, 
Enjoy what I pay for and scorn to have more. 
Yet, yet, what is the good of it? 



Selections for Reading. 137 

Some gather round them a phalanx of friends, 

Scattering affection like coin in a crowd. 
I keep my heart for the few Heaven sends, 

Where they'll find my name writ when I lie in my shroud. 
Still, still, where is the good of it? 

Some toy with love; lightly come, lightly go; 

A blithe game at hearts, little worth, little cost. 
I staked my whole soul on one desperate throw, 

A life 'gainst an hour's sport. We played and I lost. 
Ha, ha, such was the good of it ! 

Moral, added on Ms Death-bed. 

Turn the past's mirror backward ; its shadows removed, 
The dim, confused mass becomes softened, sublime; 

I have worked, I have felt, I have lived, I have loved, 
And each was a step towards the goal I now climb. 
Thou, God, Thou sawest the good of it! 



DOMBEY AND SON. 
Charles Dickens. 



They were the strangest pair, at such a time, that evei 
firelight shone upon. Mr. Dombey so erect and solemn, 
gazing at the blaze; his little image with an old, old face, 
peering into the red perspective with the fixed and rapt 
attention of a sage. Mr. Dombey entertaining complicated 
worldly schemes and plans; the little image entertaining 
Heaven knows what wild fancies, half -formed thoughts, and 
wandering speculations. Mr. Dombey stiff with starch and 
arrogance, the little image by inheritance and unconscious 
imitation. The two so very much alike and yet so mon- 
strously contrasted. 

On one of these occasions, when they had both been per- 



138 Selections for Beading. 

fectly quiet for a long time, and Mr. Dombey only knew 
the child was awake by occasionally glancing at his eye 
where the bright fire was sparkling like a jewel, little Paul 
broke silence thus: 

" Papa, what's money?" 

The abrupt question had such immediate reference to 
Mr. Dombey's thoughts, that Mr. Dombey was quite dis- 
concerted. 

" What is money, Paul?" he answered, " money!" 

"Yes," said the child, laying his hands upon the elbows 
of his little chair, and turning the little old face towards 
Mr. Dombey's, " what is money?" 

Mr. Dombey was in a difficulty. He would have liked 
to give him some explanation involving the terms circulat- 
ing medium, currency, depreciation of currency, paper, 
bullion, rates of exchange, value of precious metals in the 
market and so forth; but looking down at the little chair 
and seeing what a long way down it was, he answered, 
" Gold and silver and copper, guineas, shillings, half-pence. 
You know what they are?" 

" Oh, yes, I know what they are," said Paul. " I don't 
mean that, papa. I mean, what's money after all?" 

Heaven and earth, how old his face was, as he turned it 
up again towards his father's. 

"What is money after all?" said Mr. Dombey, backing 
his chair a little that he might the better gaze in sheer 
amazement at the presumptuous atom that propounded 
such a question. 

" I mean, papa, what can it do?" returned Paul, folding 
his arms (they were hardly long enough to fold) and looking 
at the fire, and up at him, and at the fire, and up at him again. 

Mr. Dombey drew his chair back to its former place, and 
patted him on the head. 



Selections for Reading. 139 

"You will know better, by and by, my man," he said. 
"Money, Paul, can do anything." He took hold of the 
little hand and beat it softly against one of his own as he 
said so. But Paul got his hand free as soon as he could, 
and rubbing it gently to and fro on the elbow of his chair, 
as if his wit were in the palm and he was sharpening it — 
and looking at the fire again, as though the fire had been 
his adviser and prompter, repeated after a short pause, 
"Anything, papa?" 

" Yes — anything — almost," said Mr. Dombey. 

" Anything means everything, don't it, papa?" asked 
his son, not observing, or possibly not understanding the 
qualification. 

"It includes it; yes," said Mr. Dombey. 

" Why didn't money save me my mama?" returned the 
child. "It isn't cruel, is it?" 

" Cruel!" said Mr. Dombey, settling his neckcloth and 
seeming to resent the idea, " No. A good thing can't be 
cruel." 

"If it's a good thing and can do anything," said the little 
fellow thoughtfully, as he looked back at the fire, " J 
wonder why it didn't save me my mama." 

He didn't ask the question of his father this time. Per- 
haps he had seen with a child's quickness that it had 
already made his father uncomfortable. But he repeated 
the thought aloud, as if it were quite an old one to him and 
troubled him very much, and sat with his chin resting on 
his hand, still cogitating and looking for an explanation in 
the fire. 

Mr. Dombey having recovered from his surprise, not to 
say alarm (for it was the very first occasion on which the 
child had ever broached the subject of his mother to him), 
expounded to him how that money, though a very potent 



140 Selections for Heading, 

spirit, never to be disparaged on any account whatever, 
could not keep people alive whose time was come to die; 
and how that we must all die; unfortunately, even in the 
city though we were never so rich. But how that money 
caused us to be feared, honored and respected, courted and 
admired, and made us powerful and glorious in the eyes of 
all men; and how that it could very often even keep off 
death for a long time together, and how it could do all that 
could be done. This, with more to the same purpose, Mr. 
Dombey instilled into the mind of his son, who listened at- 
tentively and seemed to understand the greater part of 
what was said to him. 

"It can't make me strong, and quite well, either, papa, 
can it?" asked Paul after a short silence, rubbing his tiny 
hands. 

"Why, you are strong and quite well," returned Mr. 
Dombey. " Are you not?" 

Oh, the age of the face that was turned up again, with 
an expression half of melancholy half of slyness on it! 

" You are as strong and well as such little people usually 
are? Eh?" said Mr. Dombey. 

"Florence is older than I am, but I'm not as strong 
and well as Florence, I know," returned the child, "but 1 
believe that when Florence was as little as me she could 
play a great deal longer at a time without tiring herself. I 
am so tired, sometimes," said little Paul, warming his 
hands and looking in between the bars of the grate as if 
some ghostly puppet-show was performing there, " and my 
bones ache so that I don't know what to do." 

" Aye, but that is at night," said Mr. Dombey, drawing 
his own chair closer to his son's and laying his hand gently 
on his back, "little people should be tired at night for then 
they sleep well." 



Selections for Beading. 141 

"Oh, it's not at night, papa/' returned the child, "'it's 
in the day, and I lie down in Florence's lap and she sings 
to me. At night I dream about such cu-ri-ous things," and 
he went on warming his hands again and thinking about 
them like an old man or a young goblin. 

Mr. Dombey was so astonished, and so uncomfortable and 
so perfectly at a loss how to pursue the conversation that 
he could only sit looking at his son by the light of the fire 
until the nurse appeared to summon him to bed. 

When the cloth was removed the next day after dinner, 
Mr. Dombey required to be informed whether there was 
anything the matter with Paul and what Dr. Pilkins said 
about him. "For the child is hardly," said Mr. Dombey, 
" hardly as stout as I could wish." 

"With your happy discrimination, my dear brother," 
returned Mrs. Chick, " you have hit the point at once. 
Our darling is not altogether as stout as I could wish. The 
fact is, that his mind is altogether too much for him. His 
soul is a great deal too large for his frame. I am sure the 
way in which that dear child talks!" said Mrs. Chick, shak- 
ing her head, " no one would believe. His expressions only 
yesterday, on the subject of funerals — " 

" I am afraid," said Mr. Dombey, interrupting her testily, 
" that some of those persons up-stairs suggest improper 
subjects to the child. He was speaking to me last night 
about — about his bones," said Mr. Dombey, laying an irri- 
tated stress upon the word. " What on earth has anybody 
to do with the — the bones of my son? He is not a living 
skeleton, I suppose." 

" Very far from it," said Mrs. Chick. 

"I hope so," returned her brother. "Funerals again! 
who talks to the child of funerals? We are not under- 
takers, or mutes, or grave-diggers, I believe." 



142 Selections for Beading. 

" Very far from it," said Mrs. Chick with the same pro- 
found expression as before. " Dr. Pilkins recommended 
to-day sea-air." 

" Sea-air," repeated Mr. Dombey, looking at his sister. 

" There is nothing to be made uneasy by, in that," said 
Mrs. Chick. 

" Of course," said Mr. Dombey, and taking a book, sat 
looking at one page for an hour without speaking a word. 



WILD WEATHER OUTSIDE. 

Margaret E. Sangster. 

Wild weather outside where the brave ships go, 
And fierce from all quarters the four winds blow. 
Wild weather and cold, and the great waves swell 
With chasms beneath them as black as hell. 
The waters frolic in Titan play, 
They dash the decks with an icy spray, 
The spent sails shiver, the lithe masts reel, 
And the sheeted ropes are as smooth as steel. 
And oh, that the sailor were safe once more 
Where the sweet wife smiles in the cottage door! 

The little cottage, it shines afar 
O'er the lurid seas, like the polar star. 
The mariner tossed in the jaws of death 
Hurls at the storm a defiant breath; 
Shouts to his mates through the writhing foam, 
' Courage! please God, we shall yet win home!" 
Frozen and haggard, and wan and gray, 
But resolute still; 'tis the sailor's way. 
And perhaps — at the fancy the stern eyes dim- 
Somebody's praying to-night for him. 

Ah me, through the drench of the bitter rain, 
How T bright the picture that rises plain! 



Selections for Reading. 143 

Sure he can see, with her merry look, 
His little maid crooning her spelling-book; 
The baby crows from the cradle fair; 
The grandam nods in her easy-chair; 
While hither and yon, with a quiet grace, 
A woman flits with an earnest face. 
The kitten purrs, and the kettle sings, 
And a nameless comfort the picture brings. 

Rough weather outside, but the winds of balm 
Forever float o'er that isle of calm. 
O friends, who read over tea and toast 
Of the wild night's work on the storm-swept coast, 
Think, when the vessels are overdue, 
Of the perilous voyage, the baffled crew, 
Of stout hearts battling for love and home 
'Mid the cruel blasts and the curdling foam; 
And breathe a prayer from your happy lips 
For those who must go ''to the sea in ships;" 
Ask that the sailor may stand once more 
Where the sweet wife smiles in the cottage door. 

— Harper's Magazine. 



EXTEACTS FROM ESSAYS. 
Ralph Waldo Emerson, 

CIVILIZATION. 

Civilization depends on morality. Everything good 
In man leans on what is higher. This rule holds in small 
as in great. Thus, all our strength and success in the work 
of our hands depend on our borrowing the aid of the 
elements. You have seen a carpenter on a ladder with a 
broad-axe chopping upward chips from a beam. How 
awkward! At what disadvantage he works! But see him 
on the ground, dressing his timber under him. Now, not 
his feeble muscles but the force of gravity brings down the 



144 Selections for Reading. 

axe; that is to say, the planet itself splits his stick. The 
farmer had much ill temper, laziness and shirking to endure 
from his hand-sawyers, until one day he bethought him to 
put his saw-mill on the edge of a waterfall; and the river 
never tires of turning his wheel. 

I admire still more than the saw-mill the skill which on 
the seashore makes the tides drive the wheels and grind 
corn, and which thus engages the assistance of the moon, 
like a hired hand, to grind and wind and pump and saw 
and split stone and roll iron. Now that is the wisdom of 
a man in every instance of his labor, to hitch his wagon to 
a star, and see his work done by the gods themselves. 
That is the way we are strong, by borrowing the might of 
the elements. The forces of steam, gravity, galvanism, 
light, magnets, wind, fire, serve us day by day and cost us 
nothing. 

And as our handiworks borrow the elements, so all our 
social and political action leans on principle. Gibraltar 
may be strong, but ideas are impregnable, and bestow on 
the hero their invincibility. Let us not lie and steal; no 
god will help; we shall find all their teams going the other 
way. Work rather for those interests which the divinities 
honor and promote, justice, love, freedom, knowledge and 
utility. The true test of civilization is not the census, nor 
the size of cities, nor the crops — no, but the kind of man 
the country turns out. 

ART. 

A study of admirable works of art sharpens our percep- 
tions of the beauties of Nature; a certain analogy reigns 
throughout the wonders of both; the contemplation of a 
work of great art draws us into a state of mind which may 
be called religious. It conspires with all exalted sentiments. 



Selections for Reading. 145 

The analogies which exist in all the arts are the reappear- 
ance of one mind working in many materials to many tem- 
porary ends. Kaphael paints wisdom, Handel sings it, 
Phidias carves it, Shakespeare writes it, Wren builds it, 
Columbus sails it, Luther preaches it, Washington arms it, 
Watt mechanizes it. Painting was called " silent poetry," 
and poetry " speaking painting." The laws of each art are 
convertible into the laws of every other. 

Every genuine work of art has as much reason for being 
as the earth and the sun. The gayest charm of beauty has 
a root in the constitution of things. The Iliad of Homer, 
the songs of David, the odes of Pindar, the tragedies of 
Echylus, the Doric temples, the Gothic cathedrals, the 
plays of Shakespeare, all and each were made not for sport, 
but in grave earnest in tears and smiles of suffering, loving 
men. The Gothic cathedrals were built when the builder 
and the priest and the people were overpowered by their 
faith. Love and fear laid every stone. And beauty, truth 
and goodness are not obsolete. They spring eternal in the 
breast of man; they are as indigenous in Massachusetts as 
in Tuscany or the Isles of Greece. And that Eternal Spirit 
whose triple face they are, molds from them forever, for 
his mortal child, images to remind him of the Infinite and 
Fair. 



146 Selections for Rtading* 

THE GLOEY AND GKAKDEUK OF PEACE. 
Charles Sumner. 

Whatever may be the judgment of poets, of moralists, 
of satirists, or even of soldiers, it is certain that the 
glory of arms still exercises no mean influence over the 
minds of men. The art of war, which has been happily 
termed, by a French divine, "the baleful art by which men 
learn to exterminate one another," is yet held, even among 
Christians, to be an honorable pursuit; and the animal 
courage, which it stimulates and develops, is prized as a 
transcendent virtue. It will be for another age, and a 
higher civilization, to appreciate the more exalted char- 
acter of the art of benevolence, — the art of extending 
happiness and all good influences, by word or deed, to the 
largest number of mankind, — which, in blessed contrast 
with the misery, the degradation, the wickedness of war, 
shall shine resplendent, the true grandeur of peace. All 
then will be willing to join with the early poet in saying, 
at least, 

" Though louder fame attend the martial rage, 
Tis greater glory to reform the age." 

Then shall the soul thrill with a nobler heroism than 
that of battle. Peaceful industry, with untold multitudes 
of cheerful and beneficent laborers, shall be its gladsome 
token. Literature, full of sympathy and comfort for the 
heart of man, shall appear in garments of purer glory 
than she has yet assumed. Science shall extend the 
bounds of knowledge and power, adding unimaginable 
strength to the hands of man, opening innumerable re- 
sources in the earth, and revealing new secrets and har- 



Selections for Reading. 147 

monies in the skies. Art, elevated and refined, shall 
lavish fresh streams of beauty and grace. Charity, in 
streams of milk and honey, shall diffuse itself among all 
the habitations of the world. 

Does anyone ask for the signs of this approaching era? 
The increasing beneficence and intelligence of our own 
day, the broad-spread sympathy with human suffering, the 
widening thoughts of men, the longings of the heart for 
a higher condition on earth, the unfulfilled promises of 
Christian progress, are the auspicious auguries of this 
happy future. As early voyagers, over untried realms of 
waste, we have already observed the signs of land. The 
green twig and fresh red berry have floated by our bark; 
the odors of the shore, fan our faces; nay, we may seem 
to descry the distant gleam of light, and hear from the 
more earnest observers, as Columbus heard, after mid- 
night, from the masthead of the Pinta, the joyful cry 
of Land! Land! and lo! a new world broke upon his early 
morning gaze. 

LBATHEE-CLAD FOX. 

Thomas Carlyle. 

Perhaps the most remarkable incident in modern his- 
tory is not the Diet of \Yorms, still less the Battle of 
Austerlitz, Waterloo, Peterloo, or any other battle; but 
an incident passed carelessly over by most historians, 
and treated with some degree of ridicule by others, 
namely, George Fox's making to himself a suit of leather. 
This man, the first of the Quakers, and by trade a shoe- 
maker, was one of those to whom, under ruder or purer 
form, the Divine Idea of the Universe is pleased to mani- 



148 Selections for Reading. 

fest itself; and, across all the bulk of ignorance and 
earthly degradation, shines through, in unspeakable 
awfulness, unspeakable beauty, on their souls; who, there- 
fore, are rightly accounted prophets, God-possessed, or 
even gods, as in some periods it has chanced. Sitting in 
his stall, working on tanned hides, amid pincers, paste- 
horns, rosin, swine-bristles, and a nameless flood of rub- 
bish, this youth had, nevertheless, a living spirit belong- 
ing to him; also, an antique inspired volume, through 
which, as through a window, it could look upwards and 
discern its celestial home. 

Mountains of encumbrance, higher than iEtna, had 
been heaped over that spirit; but it was a spirit, and would 
not lie buried there. Through long days, and nights of 
silent agony, it struggled and wrestled, with a man's force, 
to be free; how its prison-mountains heaved and swayed 
tumultuously, as the giant spirit shook them to this hand 
and that, and emerged into the light of heaven! That 
Leicester shoe-shop, had men known it, was a holier place 
than any Vatican or Loretto-shrine. " So bandaged, 
and hampered, and hemmed in," groaned he, " with 
thousand requisitions, obligations, straps, tatters, and 
tagrags, I can neither see nor move; not my own am I, 
but the world's; and time flies fast, and heaven is high, 
and hell is deep. Man! bethink thee, if thou hast power 
of thought! Why not? What binds me here? Want, 
want! — Ha, of what? Will all the shoe-wages under the 
moon ferry me across into that far Land of Light? Only 
meditation can, and devout prayer to God. I will to the 
woods; the hollow of a tree will lodge me, wild berries 
feed me; and, for clothes, cannot I stitch myself one 
perennial suit of leather?" 



Selections for Beading. 149 

Let some living Angelo or Eosa, with seeing eye and 
understanding heart, picture George Fox on that morn- 
ing, when he spreads out his cutting-board for the last 
time, and cuts cowhides by unwonted patterns, and 
stitches them together into one continuous, all-including 
case, the farewell service of his awl! Stitch away, thou 
noble Fox; every prick of that little instrument is prick- 
ing into the heart of slavery, and world-worship, and the 
Mammon-god. Thy elbows jerk, as in strong swimmer- 
strokes, and every stroke is bearing thee across the 
prison-ditch, within which vanity holds her workhouse 
and rag-fair, into lands of true liberty. Were the 
work done, there is in broad Europe one free man, and 
thou art he! 



LILIES IN PKISON. 

Elizabeth Stuart Phelps. 

I AM going to tell a short story about my sister. I am 
a boy, and she isn't, and so we looked at it differently. 
When I say it, I mean this thing that the story is about. 
It is all settled now, and I was wrong, and she wasn't. I 
hate to be in the wrong, but I hate more to be mean. 
And I think it's mean not to own up when you are. 

I've been thinking about it, and I thought the best way to 
own up I could think of, would be to tell the story. This 
thing we looked at differently I spoke of wasn't much. It 
was nothing but a parcel of flowers, and it was more than a 
year ago. It was last June. They grow in a great bed 
behind our house. They are lilies of the valley, and you 
always know it's June by their getting along so far. 



150 Selections for Reading. 

So then. Day is a queer girl. She isn't like all the 
other girls. She's pretty as she can live, and she's jolly as 
time, and she isn't the kind of good you see in Sunday- 
school books, that slumps through and dies. Then all the 
poor folks cry at her funeral — in the book. Daisy's fond of 
poor people too; all sorts of rag-tag and bob-tails. I don't 
approve of it. I don't like the society she keeps. But 
she's so jolly you can't say much. She's a hand to carry 
on, I can tell you, when she feels like it. 

Now the time I speak of, my sister came in one day. 
Father and I were discussing politics in the library. Day, 
she came in from the garden, and she had on a white 
dress, and her straw hat, and her hands were just heaped 
with those lilies I told you of. It was a pleasant day. She 
came and stood in the door, and I and father stopped talk- 
ing politics to look at her. 

"Father?" said Day. She always speaks up like that 
when she speaks his name, as if she were asking him a 
question. "Father, I want to go to Wenham Prison." 
" What?" says father. " I want to carry some lilies of the 
valley to Wenham Prison," said Daisy. "I want to give 
them to the poor men. We have more than we can pos- 
sibly use. I can go in the noon train, and be back to tea 
Have you any objections, sir? May I go?" "Certainly 
not," said I. I didn't wait for father. I was so kind of 
shocked and mad with Day. But father paid no more 
attention to me than if Pd been a grasshopper candidating 
for town clerk. He just sat and looked at Daisy. "Aren't 
you afraid, my dear?" he said. "They are pretty rough 
men." "Oh no, sir," said Daisy. "I am not afraid." 
"Do you suppose they will care for your flowers?" asked 
father. But he spoke low, kind of, and lower. " Oh yes, 
sir," said Daisy. "I am sure they'll care." "They'll 



Selections for Reading, 151 

make fun of you!" said I, I was so mad. " Be still, sir!" 
said father, like a shot. And my gracious! when I looked 
at him, I saw father was most ready to cry — if he hadn't 
been a man — two real, genuine no-mistake tears in his eyes, 
for looking at Daisy. And he said, " Come here, my 
daughter," and he kissed her, and he said, "Go and take 
your flowers to the poor fellows, Daisy, and Heaven bless 
you!" and then he said no more about it. 

But I couldn't stand it, don't you see? for I never did 
agree with Day about those things; and I thought this 
wasn't proper; none the other fellows' sisters did it, so I up 
and said I wished Day was like other girls, and I thought 
it was disreputable going to prison and places. "You do 
keep such disgraceful company, Daisy!" said I. Then my 
father turned on me, and he looked like thunder — and he 
says to me, " Robert /" (my name is Bob). " You will put 
on your hat and accompany your sister to AYenham, and 
take care of her till she gets back, and if I know of your 
saying one breathing word to make her uncomfortable, 
I'll take away your pocxet-moxey for six months!" 

But Daisv didn't seem to care. She onlv looked at me 
as if she 5 d been trying not to laugh; the way she looked 
once when I was a little boy and tolcl her I wanted a Bible, 
one Sunday, with the Hypocrisy in it. I meant the 
Apocrypha, and she thought she wouldn't hurt my feel- 
ings. So she never laughed and never got mad; she only 
just stood there with her lilies, and not one of 'em looked 
sweeter than my sister, if she does keep such society. We 
call 'em Daisy's "set," all the scalawags she looks after. 
And when we went to the train that day (for I had to go), 
I called back to mother, " Daisy's going into society! You 
ought to come to matronize her. Daisy and I are going 
to make our" (de — e — how do you spell it? D— a— ) 



152 Selections for Reading. 

(Daisy's day-loo is what I wish to say.) But Day only 
laughed, and mother never said anything (she never does), 
and father wasn't round. "The select circle of Prison 
Point!" said I. " I hope they won't snub us." 

Now Day ought to have snubbed me, but she didn't; 
only pretty soon when I was most across the road my 
father overtook us, and he said, " My son, your sister 
keeps a kind of society the rest of us might be glad to 
keep at the Judgment Day. Daisy won't be ashamed of 
her ' set ' then," says father. And so then he went to the 
station with us, and he gave Day a letter of introduction to 
the warden, and then he seid good-by as if she'd been going 
to heaven instead of to prison, and so we started off and 
went, I as mad as mad (but I didn't durst show it on account 
of father), and Day as sweet and still as if she'd been a live 
lily herself. 

For all Day had on her traveling clothes, which were 
so plain and modest, yet she seemed to grow whiter and 
whiter — maybe she was a mite scared — when we came 
nearer to the prison; and before we got there, which was 
the whitest, she or the lilies, nobody could have said, and 
a great many people looked at her. 

Well, and so we went on, and we came to the prison. 
And it was very large and dark. And they let us in. And 
the warden kind of smiled over my father's letter. And he 
looked at Daisy, and he looked at the flowers, and he said, 
" There are four hundred and seventy pretty rough, bad 
men in this place, miss. Do you think they will care for 
your flowers?" "May I try and see, sir?" said Daisy. 
" I've no objections," said the warden. He was a big man. 
But he spoke in a soft voice. So he let us in. And we all 
went together. 

But I went ahead of my sister to protect her. And the 



Selections for Beading. 153 

warden asked how old I was. And he walked beside Day, 
close beside her, all the way. And Daisy kept hold of her 
flowers. And all the men were coming out of dinner. 
So the warden let us stand on a pair of stairs and look 
down at 'em. So they filed along, four hundred and 
seventy of 'em — and Day, she leaned and looked at 'em. 
Day has such a pitiful way with her, it's enough to break 
your heart. I never knew a girl look so. And she clung 
on to the flowers. But one dropped. And a beastly- 
looking fellow, it hit him on the forehead, and he looked 
up, and there he saw my sister looking over — and the 
flowers. And he was very tall. And he stood and looked 
up. But that made the other men take notice. My 
gracious! what a lot they were, you never saw! And they 
all began to look up. 

So Day she curled up and pulled back, and we walked 
on, and the warden too. And he never laughed at her. I 
was afraid he would. I had felt ashamed. Nor the red- 
headed prisoner didn't laugh. He picked up the flower. 
And we all went on. Well; and so then they went to their 
cells, some of 'em, and some to work. And the warden took 
us to the cells. And Day walked in ahead. She wasn't a 
mite afraid. 

There was a chap there in for murder — had tried to 
kill the keeper, too, last week. Day gave him flowers 
first of all. You never saw a chap look as that chap 
did. I didn't know but he'd strike somebody, he was so 
confounded. But he said, " Thank you, ma'am," like a 
gentleman. 

So we went from cell to cell, and my sister gave away 
her lilies of the valley to the prisoners. I felt kind of 
mean. They didnH laugh at her. They treated her as 
if she'd been an angel come from heaven, and they all 



154 Selections for Reading. 

said, " Thank you miss, or marm;" and one of 'em lie 
put it into a pitcher with a bouncing blue lilock. And by 
and by the lilies were all gone. 

This year, our Day got sick. I was scared, for Day 
never does such things — she's too sensible. But she did 
get sick. I've forgotten what the matter was. She had 
lots of different doctors. One of 'em said it was neuralyger, 
and one said it was studying, and another one, seems to me, 
said it was indigestion of the lungs. Anyhow, something 
ailed her, and she wasn't round a good while. Then she 
got better, and used to sit on piazzas and places to get the 
air. So we all had to wait on her. But I didn't mind it 
very much, seeing it was Day. 

Well, and so, as I was saying, Day sat on the piazza. 
And one Sunday, we all went to meeting — only Day and 
the old nurse. I'd rather stayed at home and read to Day. 
I had "Tom Brown at Eugby" out the library to read to 
her. But mother made me go to meeting, and father said 
the old woman would keep awake. So we left the biggest 
dinner-bell in the house, and we all went. 

And the church isn't a great way off. I thought we 
could hear that dinner-bell if anything happened, and she 
rang it like time. So we went to church, and Day sat 
in the easy-chair with her shawls on. And we all kissed 
her good-by. And she never complained. And father said 
how sweet she was, as we walked along. And I looked 
back. But the old nurse hadn't gone to sleep, and Day 
shook the dinner-bell at me, and she laughed, and we all 
went on and left her. 

We had been gone to church awhile, and Day, she was 
sitting all alone upon the piazza, and the deaf old woman 
had gone to sleep. And Day was feeling quiet, and a little 
lonesome, and wishing she knew when she would get well, 



Selections for Reading. 155 

and leaning back in her shawls and pillows and things, and 
looking through the grape-vine on the piazza posts, when 
all at once the gate opened w r ith a little noise. So when 
Day heard the noise, she looked up, and what do you think 
she saw? Sir, it teas a tramp! And there my sister was, 
sir, with nothing but the deaf old woman and the dinner- 
bell. And it was Sunday morning, and nobody passed upon 
the street. And no living mortal in the house but those 
two. And there she sat among her pillows. And she was 
so weak she couldn't walk a step. And there she was. 
Well, sir, Day says she was scared for a minute, just a 
minute. And she wished father was at home. And she 
grabbed the dinner-bell. But the old woman was in the 
parlor on the lounge, and she was snoring like the dead. 
So Day thought it was a pity to wake her, and she thought 
she would be scared and run. So she sat still, and she 
didn't say a word. And the tramp came up. 

He looked very ugly, that tramp did. If Fd been there, 
1 don't know but I'd have shot him. But I wasn't. And 
he came up and said, "Folks at home?" So Daisy an- 
swered — for she's brave — " Some of them are. What do 
you want?" " Ask me what I don't want!" says ihe tramp, 
and lie looked very ugly. And he pushed on into the front 
entry, for he didn't much notice Day. 

' 6 1 want most everything," said that tramp. "I'm 
nungry; I'm thirsty; I'm wet; I'm ragged; I want a place 
to live; I want the means o' livin'; I want some money/' 
said the tramp. So he pushed into the entry and poked 
about. And Day rang her dinner-bell, but the old woman 
slept like the last trumpet. And the tramp said, "Likely 
lookin' place. Don't seem to be many of yer folks about. 
Silver in the room yonder? Don't you fret. I'll just look 
around, and come back to you afterwards." Now Day 



156 Selections for Reading. 

owns up she did feel scareder and scareder, but she never 
let him know; and she wondered what it was best to do. 
She could hear 'em singing at church, and they sung: 

" Safe, safe at home." 

And so, for she didn't know what else to do, she called 
him back politely — Day is always polite — and the rascal 
came and asked her what she wanted. Then Daisy looked 
at him, and she saw how he looked, for he was hungry, 
and he was kind of pale and hollowed in, and what do you 
s'pose she said? She said, " Poor fellow!" Just like that 
— just like Day. She said she felt so sorry for him. 

So, when she said, " Poor fellow!" the tramp he stood and 
looked at Daisy, and Daisy looked at the tramp, and they 
both looked at each other, and the tramp he colored blazing 
red, and then he said, "By gracious Jiminy!" And then 
he said, " Nobody ever called me a poor fellow but once 
before in all my blasted life! And she was — she was — 
Ma'am," said that tramp, all of a sudden, " have you ever 
been in prison?" "Once," said Day, and she began to 
smile; and he began to red up and red up, more and more, 
and he said, "If you ain't the young leddy herself, I'll eat 
my head! You gave me a white flower," said that tramp. 
' I didn't know which on 'em was the holiest to see," said 
3ie tramp. " You gave it to me and told me to be a better 
man. You told me to be as white — as that. And I'd been 
as black as — ," said the tramp. " I never forgot it," said 
he. "No livin' creetur ever called me a poor feller, or told 
me I could be a better man. I never forgot you, miss, so 
help me God! Though I hain't got to bein' a nangel yet, 
I've kep' it in mind, and it's just His etarnal way of payin' 
me off that I should be let to sneak in here of a Sunday 
mornin' a bullyin' and scarin' you. And — you — sick — too," 



Selections for Reading. 157 

said that tramp, softly. " What's the matter? Hain't got 
the gallopin' consumption, have you?" 

So Day told him no, not so bad as that, and she got oyer 
her scare, and she rang and rang till the deaf old woman 
came out and said, " Lord a massy!" and Day sent her to 
get breakfast for the tramp. And it was the red-headed 
burglar she'd hit withthe lily oyer the stairs that day, 
and Day made him sit down and talk with her. But he 
was awfully ashamed. And he took an old purse he had 
out of his pocket, and showed her that flower he had 
kept. He had kept it eyer since, he said. And Daisy 
like to haye cried when she saw it. But the tramp was 
hungry, so she stopped to see about his breakfast. 

Well, then, so we all came home from church, and there 
they were. And the deaf old nurse waddled out to meet 
us, she was so scared. And she rang the dinner-bell, and 
cried "Fire!" For she didn't know what the man was 
about, and she waddled up and says to father, " There's 
a murderer on the piazzy to murder Miss Daisy!" And 
we all ran up — and the neighbors too — and the old nurse 
rang the dinner-bell like mad, and you neyer saw such a 
sight in all your days! And when we got there, there sat 
my sister as sweet as you please, and smiling at us all, and 
the red-headed burglar — for I knew him in a jiffy — he sat 
with his hat off, eating cold sandwiches and coffee at her 
feet. 

He looked kind of like a lion sitting down beside a lamb* 
But the red-headed burglar was yery well-behayed and 
gentlemanly, and Day said, " Hush, papa!" when father 
went to take him by the collar. And then she told us all 
about it. But father couldn't forgive him for the scare, 
so Day had to say, "Hush, papa!" again, and that was the 
end of it. And the tramp showed the dead lily in his 



158 Selections for Heading. 

dirty purse to father, and he said he was ashamed, and 
he said he wanted honest work. So we all sat round, 
quite as if he'd been one of the family. " Oh, my father 
will find you honest work," said Day, just as if there was 
no doubt about it. And the worst of it was he did. He 
always does. Day has only to look at him. He did find 
tiie red-headed rascal some wood to chop all summer at our 
wood-lot. And he behaved like a gentleman — I don't mean 
father, but the tramp. 

Sometimes we called him Day's burglar. Then we called 
him her tramp. / used to call him her lily of the yalley. 
But that made him mad, and he swore at me, and I had to 
quit. He acted as if I'd made game of all the saints in 
heayen. And he treated my sister as if she'd been the 
Virgin Mary. And so, when Day got well, I had to drive 
her all over the county till we found a place in a factory 
for that fellow. 

One day, I went over to see him after he'd worked at the 
factory. - I thought I'd surprise him, and see if he wasn't 
drunk or something. But he came out to meet me, look- 
ing very neat and well-behaved, like other men. And when 
I went home he sent his best respects to Day, and showed 
me the lily, and said I was to tell her that it wasn't lost, 
and that he asked God to bless her every day. So I had to 
go home and tell her. And Day didn't say much. But 
father kissed her — he always does when there's any excuse 
for it. And I can't think of any more. But I had never 
owned up to Day, so I thought I'd write it out. I don't 
think I should be ashamed of the society she keeps if I 
were Day. 



Selections for Heading. 159 

JACK ABBOTT'S BEEAKFAST. 
Leigh Hukt. 

" What a breakfast I shall eat !" thought Jack Abbotx 
as he turned into Middle Temple Lane, towards the cham- 
bers of his old friend and tutor Goodall. "How I shall 
cram down the rolls (especially the inside bits), how apol- 
ogize for one cup more ! But Goodall is an excellent old 
fellow, he won't mind. To be sure, I'm rather late. The 
rolls will be cold, but anything will be delicious. If I met 
a baker I could eat his basket." Jack Abbott was a. good- 
hearted, careless fellow, who had walked that morning 
from Hen don to breakfast by appointment with his old 
tutor, Arrived at the door of his friend's room he knocks, 
and the door is opened by Goodall himself, a thin grizzled 
personage, in an old great-coat, shaggy eyebrows, and a 
most bland and benevolent expression of countenance — a sort 
of Dominie Sampson, an angel of the dusty heaven of book- 
stalls and the British Museum. 

Unfortunately for the hero of our story this angel of 
sixty-five, unshaven and with stockings down at the heel, 
had a memory which could not recollect what had been 
told him six hours before, much less six days. Accordingly 
he had finished his breakfast long before his late pupil 
presented himself. The angel was also very short-sighted, 
and in response to Jack Abbott's hearty, "Well, how d'ye 
do, my clear sir ? I'm afraid I'm very late," replied in 
the blandest tones, "Ah, dear me ! — I'm very — I beg par- 
don — pray, who is it I have the pleasure of speaking to ?" 

"What! don't you recollect me, my dear sir? Jack 
Abbott. I met you, you know, and was to come and — " 

"Oh Mr. Abbott, is it ! My dear Mr. Abbott, to thinlj 



160 Selections for Reading. 

I should not see you! And how is the good lady, your 
mother?" 

" Very well, very well indeed, sir." Here Jack glanced 
at the breakfast-table. " I'm quite rejoiced to see that the 
breakf st-cloth is not removed. I'm horribly late. But 
don't take any trouble, my good sir. The kettle I see is 
still singing on the hob. I'll cut myself a piece of bread 
and butter immediately." 

" Ah ! You have come to breakfast, have you, my kind 
boy? That is very good of you, very good indeed." 

"Ah," thought hungry Jack Abbott, smiling even while 
he sighed, " How completely he has forgotten the invitation! 
— Thank you, my dear sir, thank you. To tell the truth I'm 
very hungry, hungry as a hunter. I walked all the way 
from Hendon this morning." 

" Bless me! Did you, indeed? Why, that's a very long 
way, isn't it? Well, sir, I'll make some fresh tea, and — " 

" I beg pardon," interrupted Jack, who in a fury of 
hunger and thirst was pouring out what tea he could find 
in the pot, "I can do very well with this, — at any rate to 
begin with." 

" Ah! But I'm sorry to see — what are we to do for milk? 
I'm afraid I must keep you waiting while I step out for 
some." 

"Don't stir, I beg you!" ejaculated our hero, "don't 
think of it, my dear sir. I can do very well without milk, 
I can indeed; I often do without milk." 

" Well, indeed, I have met with such instances before, 
and it's very lucky that you do not care for milk, but — 
Well, well! if the sugar-basin isn't empty! I will go out 
instantly. My hat must be under those pamphlets." 

" Don't think of such a thing, pray don't, my dear sir," 
cried Jack. " You may think it odd; but sugar, I can assure 



Selections for Reading. 161 

you, is a thing that I don't at all care for. The bread, my 
dear sir, the bread is all I require, just that piece." 

"Well, sir, you're very good, and very temperate; but 
now — ah, as for butter, I declare I don't believe — " 

"Butter!" interrupted our hero in a tone of the greatest 
scorn, "why, I haven't eaten butter I don't know when. 
Not a step, sir, not a step. I must make haste, for I've got 
to lunch with my lawyer and he'll expect me to eat some- 
thing, and in fact I'm so anxious and feel so hurried that I 
must be off, my good sir, I must indeed." 

Jack had made up his mind to seek the nearest coffee- 
house as fast as possible and there have the heartiest and 
most luxurious breakfast that could make amends for his 
disappointment. Being once more out of doors, our hero 
rushes like a tiger into Fleet Street and plunges into the 
first coffee-house in sight. 

"Waiter!" 

"Yessir." 

" Breakfast immediately. Tea, black and green, and all 
that." 

" Yessir. Eggs and toast, sir?" 

" By all means." 

" Yessir. Any ham, sir?" 

"Just so, and instantly." 

"Yessir. Cold fowl, sir?" 

"Precisely, and no delay." 

"Yessir. Pickles, sir?" 

"Bring all — everything, — no, I don't care for pickles, but 
bring anything yon like, and do make haste, my good fel- 
low. Do hurry up! I never was so hungry in my life!" 

"Yessir. Directly, sir. Like the paper, sir?" 

"Thank you, thank you! Now for heaven's sake, I beg 
of you — " 



162 Selections for Reading. 

" Yessir. Immediately, sir; everything ready, sir/' 

"Everything ready !" thought Jack. " Cheering sound! 
Beautiful place, a coffee-house! Fine English place — 
everything so snug, so comfortable. Have what jou like 
and no fuss about it. What a breakfast I shall eat! And 
the paper, too: horrid murder — mysterious affair — assassi- 
nation. Bless me, what horrible things — how very com- 
fortable! Waiter!" 

" Yessir. Coming sir. Directly, sir." 

" You've another slice of toast getting ready?" 

"Yessir. All right, sir." 

" Let the third, if you please, be thicker, and the fourth." 

Everything is served up: toast, hot and rich; eggs, 
plump; ham, huge; cold fowl, tempting. 

"Glorious moment!" inwardly ejaculated Jack Abbott. 
He had doubled the paper conveniently so as to read the 
"Express from Paris," in perfect comfort. Before he poured 
out his tea, he was in the act of putting his hand to one of 
the inner slices of toast when — awful visitation! — whom 
should he see passing the window but his friend Goodall. 
He was coming, of course, to read the papers, and this, of 
all the coffee-houses in the world, was the one he must 
needs go to! What was to be done? Jack could not hurt 
anybody's feelings. There was nothing left for him but to 
bolt. Accordingly, after hiding his face with the news- 
paper till Goodall has taken up another, he rushes out as 
if a sheriff was after him. 

Jack, congratulating himself that he had neither been 
seen by Goodall nor tasted a breakfast unpaid for, has 
ordered precisely such another breakfast, has got the same 
newspaper and seated himself as nearly as possible in the 
very same place. 

" Now/' thought he, " I am beyond the reach of chance. 



Selections for Heading. 168 

Goodall cannot read the papers in two coffee-houses. By 
Jove! was ever a man so hungry as I am? What a break- 
fast I shall eat!" 

Enter breakfast, served up as before. 

" Glorious moment!" thinks Jack again. 

He has got the middle slice of toast in his fingers, pre- 
cisely as before, when happening to look up, he sees the 
waiter of the former coffee-house pop his head in, look him 
full in the face, and as suddenly withdraw it. Back 
goes the toast on the plate; up springs poor Abbott to the 
door, rushes forth for the second time, and makes as fast 
as he can for a third coffee-house. 

"Am I never to breakfast?" thought he. "Nay, break- 
fast I will. People can't go into three coffee-houses on 
purpose to go out again. What a breakfast I will eat!" 

Jack Abbott, after some delay, owing to the fulness of 
the room, is seated as before. The waiter has "yessired" 
to their mutual satisfaction; the toast is done, eggs plump, 
ham huge, etc. etc. 

Unluckily, three pairs of eyes were observing him all the 
while; to wit, the waiter's of the first tavern, the waiter's 
of the second, and the landlord's of the third. They were 
now resolving upon a course of action. Jack was in the 
very agonies of hunger. " By Hercules, what a breakfast 
I will, shall, must, and have now certainly got to eat ! I 
could not have stood it any longer. Now, now, NOW is 
the glorious moment of moments." Jack took up a slice of 
the toast and — with a strange look of misgiving laid it down 
again. 

" I'm blessed if he's touched it, after all," said waiter the 
first. " Well, this beats everything!" 

"He's a precious rascal, depend on't," says the landlord. 
"We'll nab him. Let us go to the door!" 



1 64 Selections for Reading, 

" I'll be hanged if he ain't going to bolt again!" said the 
second waiter. 

"Search his pockets," said the landlord. "Three 
breakfasts and not one eaten!" 

" What a willain !" said the first waiter. 

By this time all the people in the coffee-house had 
crowded into the room, and a plentiful mob was gathering 
at the door. 

"Here's a chap has had three breakfasts this morning," 
exclaimed the landlord. 

"Three breakfasts!" cried a dry-looking man in specta- 
cles, " how could he possibly do that?" 

" I didn't say he'd eaten them. I said he'd ordered 
them and didn't eat them. Three breakfasts in three dif- 
ferent houses, I tell you. He's been to my house, and to 
this man's house, and to this man's, and we've searched him 
and he hasn't a penny in his pockets." 

"That's it," cried Jack, who had vainly attempted to 
make himself heard, " that's the very reason." 

"What's the very reason?" inquired the gentleman in 
spectacles. 

" Why, I was shocked to find, just now, that I had left 
my purse at home in the hurry of coming out, and — " 

"Oh, oh," cried the laughing audience, "here's the 
policeman! He'll settle him." 

"But how does that explain the other two breakfasts?" 
asked the gentleman. 

" Not at all," said Jack. 

" Impudent rascal!" said the landlord. 

" I mean," said he, "that that doesn't explain it, but I 
can explain it." 

"Well, how?" said the gentleman, hushing the angry 
landlord, ivho had meanwhile given our hero in charge. 



Selections for Beading. 165 

"Don't lay hands on me!" cried Jack. "I'll go 
quietly, if you let me alone; but first let me explain." 

"Hear him, hear him!" cried the spectators, "and 
watch your pockets!" 

Here Jack gave a rapid statement of the events of the 
morning. This only excited laughter and derision, and 
our hero was hustled off, and in two minutes found himself 
in a crowded police-office. 

A considerable delay took place before the landlord's 
charge could be heard. 

"Agony of expectation," groaned poor Jack, "I'll have 
bread and butter when I breakfast — not toast; it's more 
hearty, and besides you get it sooner; and yet, table- 
cloth, thick slices, tea, when shall I breakfast?" 

The case at length was brought on. "Well, now, you sir, 
— Mr. What's-your-name," quoth the magistrate, "what is 
your wonderful explanation of this very extraordinary habit 
of taking three breakfasts, sir? You seem very cool 
about it." 

" Sir," answered our hero, "it is out of no disrespect to 
you that I am cool. You may well be surprised at the cir- 
cumstances under which I find myself, but in addressing a 
gentleman and a man of understanding, I have no doubt 
he will discover a veracity in my statement which has 
escaped eyes less discerning." So Jack gave an account of 
the whole matter, and the upshot of it was that the magis- 
trate not only proceeded to throw the greatest ridicule on 
the charge, but gave Jack a note to the nearest coffee- 
house, desiring the tavern-keeper to furnish the gentleman 
with a breakfast at his expense, and explaining the reason 
why. 

With abundance of acknowledgments, and in raptures at 
the now certain approach of the bread and butter, Jack 



166 Selections for Reading. 

made his way to the tavern. "At last I have thee!" cried 
he internally. " most fugacious of meals, what a repast 
I will make of it! What a breakfast I shall have! Never 
was a breakfast so intensified !" 

Jack Abbott, with the note in his hand, arrived at the 
tavern, went up the steps, hurried through the passage. 
Every inch of the way was full of hope and bliss, when, lo! 
whom should his eyes light on but the other landlord whom 
he had just left in the court-room, detailing his version of 
the story to the new landlord, and evidently poisoning his 
mind with every syllable. Raging with hunger as he was, 
Jack could not stand this. With a despair for which he 
could find no words, he turned away in the direction of his 
lawyer's. " Now the lawyer," quoth he, soliloquizing, "was 
an intimate friend of my father's, so intimate that if he 
offers me breakfast I can accept it, and of course he will. 
I shall plainly tell him that I prefer breakfast to lunch; in 
short, that I have made up my mind to have it, even if I 
wait till dinner-time or tea-time, and he'll laugh, and we 
shall be jolly, and I shall get something to eat at last. 
Exquisite moment! What a breakfast I shall eat!" 

The lawyer, Mr. Pallinson, occupied a good large house, 
with the marks of plenty on it. Jack hailed the sight of 
the fire blazing in the kitchen. " Delicious spot!" thought 
he, "kettle, pantry and all that. Hope there is milk left, 
and bread and butter. What slices I toill eat!" 

Bat Jack unfortunately rang the bell of the office, in- 
stead of the house, and found himself among a parcel of 
clerks. Mr. Pallinson was out; was not expected home 
till evening. Jack in desperation stated his case. No 
result but, "Very strange, sir," from one of the clerks. 
No Mrs. Pallinson existed to whom he might apply, so. 
blushing and stammeiing " Good-morning," Jack found 



Selections for Beading. 167 

himself out again in the wide world of pavement and 
houses. The clerks had told him that Mi. Pallinson 
always dined at the Mendall coffee-house when away on 
special business, and towards it our hero turned his hun- 
gry and melancholy steps, determined to wait there foi 
him. "Ah," thought Jack, with a sigh, "five o'clock 
isn't far off, and then I'm certain. What a breakfast I 
shall have when it does come! At length five o'clock 
strikes, and at the same moment enters Mr. Pallinson. He 
was a brisk, good-humored man, who greeted Jack heartily. 
" Here, John, plates for two! You'll dine, of course, with 
your father's old friend." Jack's heart felt itself at home 
with this cordiality, and he at once entered into the history 
of his morning. The good and merry lawyer, who under- 
stood a joke, entered heartily, and with great bursts of 
laughter, into Jack's whim of still having his breakfast, 
and it was accordingly brought up, with an explanation to 
the waiter that "his friend here had got up so late, and 
kept such fashionable hours, that he must needs breakfast 
while he himself was dining." "And so," said the shrewd 
attorney, as the waiter was respectfully bowing himself out, 
" no harm's done, and now peg away." Jack did not wait 
for a second bidding. The bread and butter was at last 
actually before him, not so thick as he had pictured it, but 
as the waiter had turned his back three slices could be 
rolled into one. This arrangement was accordingly made 
the mouth was ready to swallow — enter Mr. Goodall! 

"Breakfast is abolished for me," thought Jack, laying 
down the bread and butter, " there's no such thing. 
Henceforth I will not attempt it." 

The lawyer and Mr. Goodall were well known to each other s 
but what had brought him thither wa3 a confused story. 
He had somehow heard of a Mr. Abbott having ordered 



168 Selections for Heading. 

three breakfasts and having been taken to jail. He had 
followed him up from place to place till he found him in 
the tavern. 

"I'm very glad indeed, sir, to find you so comfortably 
situated, after the story that half-witted fellow of a waiter 
told me at the coffee-house. But don't let me interrupt 
your tea, I beg of you!' 5 

"Luckiest of innocent fancies." thought our hero, "he 
thinks Fm at tea! 53 He plunged again at the bread and 
butter. He was really breakfasting! "I beg your par- 
don/' he said, with his mouth full. "Fm eating a little 
too fast, — but may I trouble you for that loaf ? These 
slices are very thin, and Fm so ravenously hungry. " Jack 
doubled his thin slices; he took huge bites; he swilled his 
tea. as he had sworn he would; he had eggs on one side of 
him, ham on the other, his friends before him, and was as 
happy as a prince escaped from a foreign land: and when 
he had at length finished, talking and laughing all the 
while, or hearing talk and laughter, he pushed the break- 
fast-cup aside, and chuckled to himself, "Fve had it! 
Breakfast hath been mine! And now, my dear Mr. Pallin- 
son, I'll take a glass of your port!" 



Selections for Reading. 169 

APOSTEOPHE TO THE OCEAN. 

Lord Byron. 

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods 
There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
There is society where none intrudes, 
By the deep sea, and music in its roar; 
I love not Man the less, but Nature more, 
From these our interviews, in which I steal 
From all I may be or have been before, 
To mingle with the Universe and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean— roll! 
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; 
Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
Stops with the shore! — upon the watery plain 
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, 
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, 
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, 
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown. 

His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields 
Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise 
And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields 
For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise, 
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, 
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray 
And howling, to his gods, where haply lies 
His petty hope in some near port or bay, 
And dashest him again to earth: — there let him lay. 

The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
And monarchs tremble in their capitals, 
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
Their clay creator the vain title take 



170 Selections for Reading. 

Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; 
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, 
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 

Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-— 
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? 
Thy waters wasted them while they were free, 
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey 
The stranger, slave or savage; their decay 
Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, 
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — 
Time writes no wrinkle on th} T azure brow — 
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 

Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
Glasses itself in tempests: in all time, 
Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
Dark-heaving;— boundless, endless, and sublime — 
The image of Eternity — the throne 
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime 
The monsters of the deep are made : each zone 
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 



A H1STOEICAL ADDKESS. 

Daniel Webster. 

TJkborh ages and visions of glory crowd upon my soul,, 
the realization of all which, however, is in the hands and 
good pleasure of Almighty God; but, under His divine 
blessing, it will be dependent on the character and the vir- 
tues of ourselves, and of our posterity. If classical history 
has been found to be, is now, and shall continue to be, the 
concomitant of free institutions and of popular eloquence, 



Selections for Reading. 171 

what a field is opening to us for another Herodotus, an- 
other Thucydides, and another Livy! 

And let me say, gentlemen, that if we and our pos- 
terity shall be true to the Christian religion — if we and 
they shall live always in the fear of God, and shall respect 
His commandments — if we and they shall maintain just, 
moral sentiments, and such conscientious convictions of 
duty as shall control the heart and life, — we may have the 
highest hopes of the future fortunes of our country; and 
if we maintain those institutions of government and that 
political union, exceeding all praise as much as it exceeds 
all former examples of political associations, we may be 
gure of one thing— that, while our country furnishes ma- 
terials for a thousand masters of the historic art, it will 
afford no topic for a Gibbon. It will have no Decline and 
Fall. It will go on prospering and to prosper. 

But, if we and our posterity reject religious instruc- 
tion and authority, violate the rules of eternal justice, 
trifle with the injunctions of morality, and recklessly 
destroy the political constitution which holds us together, 
no man can tell how sudden a catastrophe may overwhelm 
us, that shall bury all our glory in profound obscurity. 
Should that catastrophe happen,, let it have no history ! 
Let the horrible narrative never be written! Let its fate 
be like that of the lost books of Livy, which no human eye 
shall ever read; or the missing Pleiad, of which no man 
can ever know more, than that it is lost, and lost forever! 

But, gentlemen, I will not take my leave of you in a 
tone of despondency. We may trust that Heaven will not 
forsake us, nor permit us to forsake ourselves. We must 
strengthen ourselves, and gird up our loins with new reso- 
lution; we must counsel each other; and, determined to 
sustain each other in the support of the Constitution, pre* 



172 Selections for Reading. 

pare to meet manfully, and united, whatever of difficulty 
or of danger, whatever of effort or of sacrifice, the provi- 
dence of God may call upon us to meet. 

Are we of this generation so derelict, have we so little 
of the blood of our revolutionary fathers coursing through 
our veins, that we cannot preserve what they achieved ? 
The world will cry out " shame" ujfon us, if we show our- 
selves unworthy to be the descendants of those great and 
illustrious men, who fought for their liberty, and secured 
it to their posterity, by the Constitution of the United 
States. 

Gentlemen, inspiring auspices, this day, surround us 
and cheer us. It is the anniversary of the birth of Wash- 
ington. We should know this, even if we had lost our 
calendars, for we should be reminded of it by the shouts 
of joy and gladness. The whole atmosphere is redolent of 
his name; hills and forests, rocks and rivers, echo and re- 
echo his praises. All the good, whether learned or un- 
learned, high or low, rich or poor, feel, this day, that there 
is one treasure common to them all, and that is the fame 
and character of Washington. They recount his deeds, 
ponder over his principles and teachings, and resolve to be 
more and more guided by them in the future. 

To the old and the young, to all born in the land, 
and to all whose love of liberty has brought them from 
foreign shores to make this the home of their adoption, 
the name of Washington is this day an exhilarating theme. 
Americans by birth are proud of his character, and exiles 
from foreign shores are eager to participate in admiration 
of him; and it is true that he is, this day, here, every- 
where, all the world over, more an object of love and re- 
gard than on any day since his birth. 

Gentlemen, on Washington's principles, and under 



Selections for Reading, 173 

the guidance of his example, will we and our children up- 
hold the Constitution. Under his military leadership our 
fathers conquered; and under the outspread banner of his 
political and constitutional principles will we also conquer. 
To that standard we shall adhere, and uphold it through 
evil report and through good report. We will meet 
danger, we will meet death, if they come, in its protection; 
and we will struggle on, in daylight and in darkness, ay, in 
the thickest darkness, with all the storms which it may 
bring with it, till 

' Danger's troubled night is o'er 
And the star of Peace return." 



OITK COMMON SCHOOLS. 
Edward Everett. 

Sir, it is our common schools which give the keys of 
knowledge to the mass of the people. Our common schools 
are important in the same way as the common air, the 
common sunshine, the common rain — invaluable for 
their commonness. They are the cornerstone of that 
municipal organization which is the characteristic feature 
of our social system; they are the fountain of that wide- 
spread intelligence which, like a moral life, pervades the 
country. 

From the humblest village school there may go forth 
a teacher who, like Newton, shall bind his temples with 
the stars of Orion's belt; with Herschel, light up his cell 
with the beams of before-undiscovered planets; with 
Franklin, grasp the lightning. Columbus, fortified with 
a few sound geographical principles, was, on the deck of 
his crazy caravel, more truly the monarch of Castile and 



174 Selections for Reading. 

Aragon than Ferdinand and Isabella, enthroned beneath 
the golden vaults of the conquered Alhambra. And 
Robinson, with the simple training of a rural pastor in 
England, when he knelt on the shores of Delft Haven, 
and sent his little flock upon their Gospel errantry be- 
yond the world of waters, exercised an influence over 
the destinies of the civilized world which will last to the 
end of time. 

Sir, it is a solemn, a tender, and sacred duty, that of 
education. What, sir, feed a child's body, and let his 
soul hunger! pamper his limbs and starve his faculties! 
Plant the earth, cover a thousand hills with your droves 
of cattle, pursue the fish to their hiding-places in the sea, 
and spread out your wheatfields across the plain, in order 
to supply the wants of that body which will soon be as 
cold and as senseless as the poorest clod, and let the pure 
spiritual essence within you, with all its glorious capaci- 
ties for improvement, languish and pine! What! build 
factories, turn in rivers upon the water-wheels, enchain 
the imprisoned spirits of steam, to weave a garment for 
the body, and let the soul remain unadorned and naked! 
What! send out your vessels to the farthest ocean, and 
make battle with the monsters of the deep, in order to 
obtain the means of lighting up your dwellings and work- 
shops, and prolonging the hours of labor for the meat 
that perisheth, and permit that vital spark which God 
has kindled, which He has intrusted to our care, to be 
fanned into a bright and heavenly flame — permit it, I 
say, to languish and go out! 

What considerate man can enter a school, and not re- 
flect with awe, that it is a seminary where immortal 
minds are training for eternity? What parent but is, at 



Selections for Heading. 175 

times, weighed down with the thought that there must 
be laid the foundations of a building which will stand, 
when not merely temple and palace, but the perpetual 
hills and adamantine rocks on which they rest, have 
melted away! — that a light may there be kindled, which 
will shine, not merely when every artificial beam is ex- 
tinguished, but when the affrighted sun has fled away 
from the heavens! I can add nothing, sir, to this con- 
sideration. I will only say, in conclusion, Education — 
when we feed that lamp, we perform the highest social 
duty! If we quench it, I know not where (humanly 
speaking), for time or for eternity: 

" I know not where is that Promethean heat 
That can its light relume! " 



THE CLASSIC POETS. 

Henry Nelson Coleridge. 

I AM not one who has grown old in literary retirement, 
devoted to classical studies with an exclusiveness which 
might lead to an overweening estimate of those two noble 
languages. Few, I will not say evil, were the days allowed 
to me for such pursuits, and I was constrained, still young 
and an unripe scholar, to forego them for the duties of an 
active and laborious profession. They are now amusements 
only, however delightful and improving. Far am I from 
assuming to understand all their riches, all their beauty, or 
all their power ; yet I can profoundly feel their immeasur- 
able superiority to all we call modern, and I would fain 
think that there are many even among my young readers 



176 Selections for Beading. 

who can now, or will hereafter, sympathize with the expres- 
sion of my ardent admiration. 

Greek, — the shrine of the genius of the old world; as uni* 
versal as our race, as individual as ourselves; of infinite flexi- 
bility, of indefatigable strength, with the complication and 
the distinctness of nature herself; to which nothing was 
vulgar, from which nothing was excluded; speaking to the 
ear like Italian, speaking to the mind like English; with 
words like pictures, with words like the gossamer film of 
the summer; at once the variety and picturesqueness of 
Homer, the gloom and the intensity of iEschylus; not com- 
pressed to the closest by Thucydides, not fathomed to the 
bottom by Plato, not sounding with all its thunders, nor 
lit up with all its ardors, even under the Promethean touch 
of Demosthenes! 

And Latin, — the voice of empire and of war, of law and 
of the state; inferior to its half-parent and rival in the 
embodying of passion and in the distinguishing of thought, 
but equal to it in sustaining the measured march of history, 
and superior to it in the indignant declamation of moral 
satire; stamped with the mark of an imperial and despotizing 
republic; rigid in its construction, parsimonious in its 
synonymes; reluctantly yielding to the flowery yoke of 
Horace, although opening glimpses of Greek-like splendor 
in the occasional inspirations of Lucretius; proved, indeed, 
to the uttermost by Cicero, and by him found wanting; yet 
majestic in its bareness, impressive in its conciseness; the 
true language of History, instinct with the spirit of nations, 
and not with the passions of individuals; breathing the 
maxims of the world and not the tenets of the schools; one 
and uniform in its air and spirit, whether touched by the 
stern and haughty Sallust, by the open and discursive Livy, 
by the reserved and thoughtful Tacitus. 



Selections for Reading. Ill 

These inestimable advantages, which no modern skill can 
wholly counterpoise, are known and felt by the scholar 
alone. He has not failed, in the sweet and silent studies 
of his youth, to drink deep at those sacred fountains of all 
that is just and beautiful in human language. The thoughts 
and the words of the master-spirits of Greece and Rome are 
inseparably blended in his memory; a sense of their marvel- 
lous harmonies, their exquisite fitness, their consummate 
polish, has sunken forever in his heart, and thence throws 
out light and fragrancy upon the gloom and the annoyances 
of his maturer years. No avocations of professional labor 
will make him abandon their wholesome study; in the midst 
of a thousand cares he will find an hour in which to recur 
to his boyish lessons, — to re-peruse them in the pleasurable 
consciousness of s old associations and in the clearness of 
manly judgment, and to apply them to himself and to the 
world with superior profit. The more extended his sphere 
of learning in the literature of modern Europe, the more 
deeply, though the more wisely, will he reverence that of 
classical antiquity; and in declining age, when the appetite 
for magazines and reviews and the ten times repeated trash 
of the day has failed, he will retire, as it were, within a 
circle of schoolfellow friends, and end his studies, as he 
began tbem, with his Homer, his Horace, and his Shake- 
speare. 



THE WINE-CUP. 

Lycius, the Cretan prince, of race divine, 
Like many a royal youth, was fond of wine; 
So, when his father died and left him king, 
He spent his days and nights in reveling. 
Show him a wine-cup, he would soon lay down 
His scepter, and for roses change his crown, 



178 Selections for Reading. 

Neglectful of his people and his state, 

The noble cares that make a monarch great. 

One day in summer — so the story goes — 

Among his seeming friends, but secret foes, 

He sat, and drained the wine-cup, when there came 

A gray-haired man, and called him by his name, 

" Lycius! " It was his tutor, Philocles, 

Who held him when a child upon his knees. 

" Lycius," the old man said, " it suits not you 

To waste your life among this drunken crew. 

Bethink you of your sire, and how he died 

For that bright scepter lying by your side, 

And of the blood your loving people shed 

To keep that golden circlet on your head. 

Ah! how have you repaid them? " " Philocles," 

The prince replied, " what idle words are these? 

I loved my father, and I mourned his fate; 

But death must come to all men, soon or late. 

Could we recall our dear ones from their urn, 

Just as they lived and loved, 'twere well to mourn; 

But since we can not, let us smile instead; 

I hold the living better than the dead. 

My father reigned and died, I live and reign. 

As for my people, why should they complain? 

Have I not ended all their deadly wars, 

Bound up their wounds, and honored their old scars? 

They bleed no more, — enough for me and mine. 

The blood o' th' grap-3,— the ripe, the royal wine! 

Slaves, fill my cup again! " They filled, and crowned 

His brow with roses, but the old man frowned. 

" Lycius," he said once more, " the state demands 

Something besides the wine-cup in your hands; 

Resume your crown and scepter, — be not blind: 

Kings live not for themselves, but for mankind." 

"Good Philocles," the shamed prince replied, 

His soft eye lighting with a flash of pride, 

"Your wisdom has forgotten one small thing — 

I am no more your pupil, but your king. 



Selections for Beading. 179 

Kings are in place of gods; remember, then, 

They answer to the gods, and not to men." 

" Hear, then, the gods, who speak to-day through me, 

The sad but certain words of prophecy: 

4 Touch not the cup; small sins in kings are great, 

Be wise in time, nor further tempt your fate/" 

" Old man! there is no fate, save that which lies 

In our own hands, that shapes our destinies; 

It is a dream. If I should will and do 

A deed of ill, no good could thence ensue; 

And willing goodness, shall not goodness be 

Sovereign, like ill, to save herself and me? 

I laugh at fate." The wise man shook his head: 

" Remember what the oracles have said: 

* What most he loves, who rules this Cretan land, 

Shall perish by the wine-cup in his hand/ " 

" Prophet of ill! no more, or you shall die! 

See how my deeds shall give your words the lie, 
And baffle fate, and all who hate me — so! " 

Sheer through the casement, in the court below, 

He dashed the half -drained goblet in disdain, 

That scattered as it flew a bloody rain; 

His courtiers laughed. But now a woman's shriek 

Rose terrible without, and blanched his cheek. 

He hurried to the casement in a fright, 

And, lo! his eyes were blasted with a sight 

Too pitiful to think of — deatl) was there, 

And wringing hands, and madness, and despair! 

There stood a nurse, and on her bosom lay 

A dying child, whose life-blood streamed away, 

Reddening its robe like wine! It was his own, 

His son, the prince that should have filled the throne 

When he was dead, and ruled the Cretan land, — 

Slain by the wine-cup from his father's hand! 



180 Selections for Heading. 



THE MUSIC OF THE TELEGEAPH WIEES. 
Hekry D. Thoreau. 

As I went under the new telegraph wire, I heard it 
ribrating like a harp high oyer head; it was as the sound 
of a far-off glorious life, a supernal life which came down 
to us and vibrated the lattice-work of this life of ours — an 
iEolian harp. It reminded me, I say, with a certain 
pathetic moderation, of what finer and deeper stirrings I 
was susceptible. It said, Bear in mind, child, and never 
for an instant forget, that there are higher planes of life 
than this thou art now travelling on. Know that the goal 
is distant, and is upward. There is every degree of in- 
spiration, from mere fulness of life to the most rapt mood. 
A human soul is played on even as this wire; I make my 
own use of the telegraph, without consulting the directors, 
like the sparrows, which, I observe, use it extensively for a 
perch. Shall I not, too, go to this office? The sound pro- 
ceeds from near the posts, where the vibration is apparently 
more rapid. It seemed to me as if every pore of the wood 
was filled with music. As I put my ear to one of the 
posts, it labored with the strains, as if every fibre was 
affected, and being seasoned or timed, rearranged accord- 
ing to a new and more harmonious law; every swell and 
change and inflection of tone pervaded it, and seemed to 
proceed from the wood, the divine tree of wood, as if its 
very substance was transmuted. 

What a recipe for preserving wood, to fill its pores with 
music ! How this wild tree from the forest, stripped of its 
bark and set up here, rejoices to transmit this music. 



Selections for Reading. 181 

When no melody proceeds from the wire, I hear the hum 
within the entrails of the wood, the oracular tree, acquir- 
ing, accumulating the prophetic fury. The resounding 
wood — how much the ancients would have made of it! To 
have had a harp on so great a scale, girdling the very earth, 
and played on by the winds of every latitude and longitude, 
and that harp were (so to speak) the manifest blessing of 
Heaven on a work of man's. Shall we not now add a tenth 
muse to those immortal nine, and consider that this inven- 
tion was most divinely honored and distinguished, upon 
which the muse has thus condescended to smile — this 
magic medium of communication with mankind? 

To read that the ancients stretched a wire round the 
earth, attaching it to the trees of the forest, on which they 
sent messages by one named Electricity, father of Lightning 
and Magnetism, swifter far than Mercury — the stern com- 
mands of war and news of peace; and that the winds 
caused this wire to vibrate, so that it emitted a harp-like and 
iEolian music in all the lands through which it passed, as 
if to express the satisfaction of the gods in this invention ! 
And this is fact, and yet we have attributed the instru- 
ment to no god. I hear the sound working terribly with- 
in. When I put my ear to it anon it swells into a clear 
tone, which seems to concentrate in the core of the tree, 
for all the sound seems to proceed from the wood. It is as 
if you had entered some world-cathedral, resounding to 
some vast organ. The fibres of all things have their ten- 
sion, and are strained like the strings of a lyre. I feel the 
very ground tremble underneath my feet, as I stand near 
the post. The wire vibrates with great power, as if it 
would strain and rend the wood. What an awful and fate- 
ful music it must be to the worms in the wood. No better 
vermifuge were needed. As the wood of an old cremona, 



182 Selections for Reading. 

its every fibre, perchance, harmoniously transposed and 
educated to resound melody, has brought a great price, so 
methinks these telegraph posts should bear a great price 
with musical-instrument makers. It is prepared to be the 
material of harps for ages to come; as it were., put asoak 
in and seasoning in music. 



SHAJRED. 
Lucy Larcom. 



I said it in the meadow-path, 
I said it on the mountain-stairs; 

The best things any mortal hath 
Are those which every mortal shares. 

The air we breathe, the sky, the breeze, 
The light without us and within, 

Life, with its unlocked treasuries, 
God's riches, are for all to win. 

The grass is softer to my tread 
For rest it yields unnumbered feet; 

Sweeter to me the wild rose red, 
Because she makes the whole world sweet 

Into your heavenly loneliness 
Ye welcomed me, O solemn peaks! 

And me in every guest you bless 
Who reverently your mystery seeks. 

And up the radiant peopled way 
That opens into worlds unknown, 

It will be life's delight to say, 

"Heaven is not heaven for me alone. * 



Selections for Reading. 183 

Rich through my brethren's poverty! 

Such wealth were hideous! I am blest 
Only in what they share with me, 

In what I share with all the rest. 

— Good Company. 



HISTOEY. 

James Anthony Fkoude. 



Histoky, the subject with which my own life has been 
mainly occupied, is concerned as much as science with ex- 
ternal facts. History depends upon exact knowledge; on 
the same minute, impartial, discriminating observation and 
analysis of particulars which is equally the basis of science. 

Historical facts are of two kinds; the veritable outward 
fact — whatever it was that took place in the order of things 
— and the account of it which has been brought down to 
us by more or less competent persons. The first we must 
set aside altogether. The eternal register of human action 
is not open to inspection; we are concerned wholly with the 
second, which are facts also, though facts different in kind 
from the other. The business of the historian is not with 
immediate realities which we can see or handle, but with 
combinations of reality and human thought which it is his 
business to analyze and separate into their component 
parts. So far as he can distinguish successfully he is a 
historian of truth; so far as he fails, he is the historian of 
opinion and tradition. 

It is, I believe, a received principle in such sciences as 
deal with a past condition of things, to explain everything, 



184 Selections for Beading. 

wherever possible, by the instrumentality of causes which 
are now in operation. Geologists no longer ascribe the 
changes which have taken place in the earth's surface 
either to the interference of an external power or to vio- 
lent elemental convulsions, of which we have no experience. 
Causes now visibly acting in various parts of the universe 
will interpret most, if not all, of the phenomena; and to 
these it is the tendency of science more and more to ascribe 
them. 

In the remotest double star which the telescope can 
divide for us, we see working the same familiar forces 
which govern the revolutions of the planets of our own 
system. The spectrum analysis finds the vapors and the 
metals of earth in the aurora and in the nucleus of a comet. 
Similarly we have no reason to believe that in the past con- 
dition of the earth, or of the earth's inhabitants, there 
were functions energizing of Avhich we have no modern 
counterparts. 

At the dawn of civilization, when men began to observe 
and think, they found themselves in possession of various 
faculties — first their five senses, and then imagination, 
fancy, reason, and memory. They did not distinguish cue 
from the other. They did not know why one idea of 
which they were conscious should be more true than an- 
other. They looked round them in continual surprise, 
conjecturing fantastic explanations of all they saw and 
heard. Their traditions and their theories blended one 
into another, and their cosmogonies, their philosophies, and 
their histories are all alike imaginative and poetical. It 
was never perhaps seriously believed as a scientific reality 
that the sun was the chariot of Apollo, or that Saturn had 
devoured his children, or that Siegfred had been bathed in 
the dragon's blood, or that earthquakes and volcanoes were 



Selections for Reading. 185 

caused by buried giants, who were snorting and tossing in 
their sleep; but also it was not disbelieved. 

The original historian and the original man of science 
was alike the poet. Before the art of writing was in- 
vented, exact knowledge was impossible. The poet's 
business was to throw into beautiful shapes the current 
opinions, traditions, and beliefs; and the gifts required of 
him were simply memory, imagination, and music. Each 
celebrated minstrel sang his stories in his own way, adding 
to them, shaping them, coloring them, as suited his pecu- 
liar genius. The Iliad of Homer, the most splendid com- 
position of this kind which exists in the world, is simply a 
collection of ballads. The tale of Troy was the heroic 
story of Greece, which every tribe modified or re-arranged. 

The chronicler is not a poet like his predecessor. He 
does not shape out consistent pictures with a beginning, a 
middle, and an end. He is a narrator of events and he 
connects them on a chronological string. He professes to 
be relating facts. He is not idealizing; he is not singing 
the praises of heroes: he means to be true in the literal and 
commonplace sense of that ambiguous word. Yet in his 
earlier phases, take him in ancient Egypt or Assyria, in 
Greece or in Rome, or in modern Europe, he is but a step 
in advance of his predecessor. He never speculates about 
causes; but on the other hand he is uncritical. He takes 
unsuspectingly the materials which he finds ready to his 
hand — the national ballads, the romances, and the biogra- 
phies. Thus the chronicle, however charming, is often 
nothing but poetry taken literally and translated into 
prose. It grows, however, and improves insensibly with 
the growth of the nation, and becomes at last perhaps the 
very best kind of historical writing which has yet been pro- 
duced. 



186 Selections for Reading. 

Neither history nor any other knowledge can be obtained 
except by scientific methods. A constructive philosophy 
of it, however, is as yet impossible, and for the present, 
and for a long time to come, we shall be confined to ana- 
lysis. First one cause and then another has interfered 
from the beginning of time with a correct and authentic 
chronicling of events and actions. Superstition, hero-wor- 
ship, ignorance of the laws of probability; religious, politi- 
cal, or speculative prejudice — one or other of these has 
tended from the beginning to give us distorted pictures. 

The most perfect English history which exists is to be 
found in my opinion in the historical plays of Shakespeare. 
In these plays, rich as they are in fancy and imagination, 
the main bearings of the national story are scrupulously 
adhered to, and whenever attainable, verbal correctness. 
Shakespeare's object was to exhibit as faithfully as he pos- 
sibly could the exact character of the great actors in the 
national drama, the circumstances which surrounded them, 
and the motives, internal and external, by which they were 
influenced. Shakespeare's attitude towards human life 
will become again attainable to us only when intelligent 
people can return to an agreement on first principles; when 
the common sense of the wisest and best among us has 
superseded the theorizing of parties and factions; when 
the few but all-important truths of our moral condition, 
which can be certainly known, have become the exclusive 
rule of our judgments and actions. 



Selections for Heading. 18? 



LOSSES, 
Frances Brown, 

Upon the white sea-sand 

There sat a pilgrim band 
Telling the losses that their lives had known, 

While evening waned away 

From breezy cliff and bay 
And the strong tides went out with weary moan. 

One spake with quivering lip 

Of a fair freighted ship 
With all his household to the deep gone down. 

But one had wilder woe — 

For a fair face, long ago 
Lost in the darker depths of a great town. 

There were who mourned their youth 

With a most loving ruth, 
For its brave hopes and memories ever green j 

And one upon the west 

Turned an eye that would not rest, 
For far-off hills whereon its joy had been. 

Some talked of vanished gold, 

Some of proud honors told, 
Some spake of friends that were their trust no more? 

And one of a green grave 

Beside a foreign wave, 
That made him sit so lonely on the shore. 

But when their tales were done 

There came among them one, 
A stranger seeming from all sorrow free; 

" Sad losses have ye met, 

But mine is heavier yet; 
For a believing heart has gone from me," 



188 Selections for Reading. 

" Alas!" these pilgrims said, 

" For the living and the dead — 
For fortune's cruelty, for love's sure cross, 

For the wrecks of land and sea. 

But, howe'er it came to thee, 
Thine, stranger, is life's last and heaviest loss." 



THE SEA. 

M. J. MlCHELET. 



The imaginative Orientals call the sea the Night of the 
Depths. In all the antique tongues from India to Ireland, 
the synonymous or analogous name of the sea is either Night 
or Desert. 

Descend to even a slight depth in the sea and the beauty 
and brilliancy of the upper light are lost; you enter into a 
persistent twilight and misty and half-lurid haze; a little 
lower and even that sinister and eldritch twilight is lost, 
and all around you is night, showing nothing, but suggest- 
ing everything that darkness — hand-maiden of terrible 
fancy — can suggest. Above, below, all around, darkness, 
utter darkness, save when, from time to time, the swift 
and gracefully terrible motion of some passing monster of 
the deep makes "darkness visible" for a brief moment and 
then that passing gleam leaves you in darkness more dense,, 
more utter, more terrible than ever. Immense in its ex- 
tent, enormous in its depth, that mass of waters which 
covers the greater part of our globe seems in truth a great 
world of shadows and of gloom. And it is that which 
above all at once fascinates and intimidates us. Darkness 
and Fear! Twin sisters, they! In the early clay ; the at 



Selections for Reading. 189 

once timid and unreasoning childhood of our race, men 
imagined that where no Light was neither could there be 
Life; that in the unfathomed depths there was a black, life- 
less, soundless Chaos; above, naught but water and gloom; 
beneath, sand and shells, the bones of the wrecked mariner, 
the rich wares of the far-off, ruined, and yainly bewailing 
merchant — those sad treasures of that " ever-receiving and 
never-restoring treasury — the Sea." 

Opaque, heavy, mighty, merciless, your sea is a liquid 
Polyphemus, a blind giant that cares not, reasons not, feels 
not, but hits a terribly hard blow. Not a nation upon the 
earth but has its tales and traditions of the sea. Homer 
and the Arabian Nights have handed down to us a goodly 
number of those frightful legends of shoals, of tempests, 
and of calms no less murderous than tempests — those calms 
during which the hardiest sailor agonizes, moans, loses all 
courage and all hope in the tortures of the hours, days, and 
even weeks — heaving upward and sinking downward, but 
never progressing a cable's length. 

The name given to the great African desert — The Abode 
of Terror — may be justly transferred to the sea. The bold- 
est sailors, Phoenicians and Carthaginians, the conquering 
Arabs who aspired to grasp the whole world, lured by what 
they heard of the Hesperides and the land of gold, sailed 
out of the Mediterranean to the wide ocean, but soon were 
glad to seek their port again. The gloomy line eternally 
covered with clouds and mist which they found keeping 
their stem watch intimidated them. They lay to; they 
hesitated; from man to man ran the murmur, " It is the 
Sea of Darkness," — and then back went they to port, and 
there told to wondering landsmen what wonders they had 
seen and what horrors they had imagined. Woe to him 
who shall persist in his sacrilegious espionage of that dread 



190 Selections for Reading. 

region! On one of those weird and far isles stands a 
sternly threatening Colossus whose menace is, "Thus far 
thou hast come; farther thou shalt not go!" 

The sublimity of the early navigators lay in their blind 
courage and desperate resolution. They knew but little of 
the sea, and of the heavens they knew still less; the com- 
pass their only instructor and their only reliance, they 
dared the most alarming phenomena without being able even 
to guess at their causes. They had none of our instru- 
ments which speak to us so plainly and so unmistak- 
ably. They went blindfolded towards, and fearlessly into, 
the uttermost darkness. They themselves confess that they 
feared, but also that they would not yield. The sea's tem- 
pests; the air's whirlwinds and waterspouts; the tragic dia- 
logues of those two oceans, air and water; the striking and, 
not so long since, ominous phenomena of the Aurora Bore- 
alis, — all this strange and wild phantasmagoria seemed to 
them the fury of irritated nature, a veritable strife of 
demons against which men could dare all — as they did — 
but could do — what they also did — nothing. 

A great age, a Titanic age, the nineteenth century, has 
coolly, intelligently, and sternly noted all those phenomena 
which the old navigators braved but did not examine. In 
this century it is that we for the first time have dared to 
look the Tempest squarely, fearlessly, and scrutinizingly in 
the eyes. Its premonitory symptoms, its characteristics, 
its results, each and all have been calmly watched, carefully 
and systematically registered. From that registration 
naturally comes explanation and generalization, and thence 
the grand, bold, and, as our not very distant ancestors would 
have said, impious system — the Law of Storms! 

So! What we took — what we in the old, bold, but blind 
day took for matter of caprice is really, after all, reducible 



Selections for Heading. 191 

to a system, obedient to a law! So! Then those terrible 
facts that made the brain swim and the heart quail, because 
fighting shadows and walking in darkness, — so! then those 
terrible facts have a certain regularity of occurrence, and 
the seaman, resolute and strong, calmly considers whether 
he cannot oppose to those regular attacks a defence no less 
regular. 

This is truly sublime. The Tempest is not abolished, 
but ignorance, bewilderment, that terrible bewilderment 
born of danger and darkness, are abolished. At least if 
the seaman of the present day perish, he can know the 
why and wherefore. Great is the safeguard of calm, clear 
presence of mind with soul and intellect unruffled and re- 
signed to whatever may be the effect of the great divine 
laws of the world, which at the expense of a few shipwrecks 
produce Safety and Equilibrium. 



"THE REVENGE :" A BA.LLAD OF THE FLEET. 
Alfred Tennyson. 

i. 

At Flores, in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay, 
And a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying from far away: 
"Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" 
Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: " 'Fore God I am no coward; 
But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, 
And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. 
We are six ships of the line ; can we fight with fifty-three ?" 

n. 

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward; 

You fly them for a moment to fight with them again. 

But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. 

I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard, 

To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain." 



192 Selections for Reading. 

in. 

So Lord Howard passed away with five ships of war that day, 

Till he melted like a cloud in the silent summer heaven; 

But Sir Richard bore in hand all his sick men from the land 

Very carefully and slow, 

Men of Bideford in Devon, 

And we laid them on the ballast down below; 

For we brought them all aboard, 

And they blest him in their pain, that they were not left to Spain, 

To the thumbscrew and the stake, for the glory of the Lord. 

IV. 

He had only a hundred seamen to work the ship and to fight, 

And he sailed away from Flores till the Spaniard came in sight, 

With his huge sea-castles heaving upon the weather bow. 

"Shall we fight or shall we fly? 

Good Sir Richard, let us know, 

For to fight is but to die! 

There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set." 

And Sir Richard said again: " We be all good English men. 

Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, 

For I never turned my back upon Don or devil yet." 

v. 

Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a hurrah, and so 
The little " Revenge" ran on sheer into the heart of the foe, 
With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below; 
For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen, 
And the little "Revenge" ran on through the long sea lane between. 

VI. 

Thousands of their soldiers looked down from their decks and laughed, 
Thousands of their seamen made mock at the mad little craft 
Running on and on, till delayed 

By their mountain-like " San Philip" that, of fifteen hundred tons, 
And up-shadowing high above us with her yawning tiers of guns, 
Took the breath from our sails, and we stayed. 



Selections for Heading. 193 

VII. 

And while now the great " San Philip" hung above us like a cloud 

Whence the thunderbolt will fall 

Long and loud, 

Four galleons drew away 

From the Spanish fleet that day, 

And two upon the larboard and two upon the starboard lay, 

And the battle-thunder broke from them all. 

VIII. 

But anon the great " San Philip," she bethought herself and went 
Slaving that within her womb that had left her ill-content; 
And the rest they came aboard us, and they fought us hand to hand* 
For a dozen times they came with their pikes and musqueteers, 
And a dozen times we shook 'em off as a dog that shakes his ears 
When he leaps from the water to the land. 

IX. 

And the sun went down, and the stars came out far over the summer 

sea, 
But never a moment ceased the fight of the one and the fifty-three. 
Ship after ship, the whole night long, their high-built galleons came, 
Ship after ship, the whole night long, with her battle-thunder and 

flame; 
Ship after ship, the whole night long, drew back with her dead and 

her shame. r 

For some were sunk and many were shattered, and so could fight us 

no more — 
God of battles, was ever a battle like this in the world before? 

x. 

For he said, ''Fight on! fight on!" 

Though his vessel was all but a wreck; 

And it chanced that, when half of the summer night was gone, 

With a grisly wound to be dressed he had left the deck, 

But a bullet struck him that was dressing it suddenly dead, 

And himself he was wounded again in the side and the head, 

And he said, "Fight on! fight on!" 



194 Selections for Reading. 



XI. 

And the night went down, and the sun smiled out far over the sum^ 

mer sea, 
And the Spanish fleet with broken sides lay round us all in a ring; 
But they dared not touch us again, for they feared that we still could 

sting, 
So they watched what the end would be. 
And we had not fought them in vain, 
But in perilous plight were we, 
Seeing forty of our poor hundred were slain, 
And half of the rest of us maimed for life 
In the crash of the cannonades and the desperate strife; 
And the sick men down in the hold were most of them stark and cold, 
And the pikes were all broken or bent, and the powder was all of it 

spent; 
And the masts and the rigging were lying over the side; 
But Sir Richard cried in his English pride, 
" We have fought such a fight for a day and a night 
As may never be fought again ! 
We have won great glory, my men! 
And a day less or more 
At sea or ashore, 
We die — does it matter when? 

Sink me the ship, Master Gunner — sink her, split her in twain! 
Fall into the hands of God, not into the hands of Spain !" 

XII. 

And the gunner said, "Ay, ay," but the seamen made reply: 

" We have children, we have wives, 

And the Lord hath spared our lives. 

We will make the Spaniard promise, if we yield, to let us go; 

We shall live to fight again and to strike another blow." 

And the lion there lay dying, and they yielded to the foe. 

XIII. 

And the stately Spanish men to their flagship bore him then, 
Where they laid him by the mast, old Sir Richard caught at last, 
And they praised him to his face with their courtly foreign grace* 
But he rose upon their decks, and he cried : 



Selections for Reading. 195 

" I have fought for Queen and Faith like a valiant man and true; 
I have only done my duty as a man is bound to do: 
With a joyful spirit I Sir Richard Grenville die!" 
And he fell upon their decks, and he died. 

XIV. 

And they stared at the dead that had been so valiant and true, 

And had holden the power and glory of Spain so cheap 

That he dared her with one little ship and his English few; 

AVas he devil or man? He was devil for aught they knew, 

But they sank bis body with honor down into the deep, 

And they manned the " Revenge" with a swarthier alien crew, 

And away she sailed with her loss and longed for her own; 

When a wind from the lands they had ruined awoke from sleep, 

And the water began to heave and the weather to moan, 

And or ever that evening ended a great gale blew, 

And a wave like the wave that is raised by an earthquake grew, 

Till it smote on their hulls and their sails and their masts and their 

flags, 
And the whole sea plunged and fell on the shot- shattered navy of 

Spain, 
And the little "Revenge" herself went down by the island crags 
To be lost evermore in the main. 



CHRISTIAN CITIZENSHIP. 

T. De Witt Talmage. 

Ephesus was upside down. The manufacturers of silver 
boxes for holding heathen images had collected their labor- 
ers together to discuss the behavior of one Paul, who had 
been in public places assaulting image worship, and conse- 
quently very much damaging their business. There was a 
great excitement in the city. People stood in knots along 
the street, violently gesticulating, and calling one another 



196 Selections for Heading. 

hard names. Some of the people favored the policy of the 
silversmiths; others the policy of Paul. Finally they called 
a convention. When they assembled they all wanted the 
floor, and all wanted to talk at once. Some wanted to de- 
nounce, some to resolve. At last the convention rose in a 
body, all shouting together, till some were red in the face 
and sore in the throat, " Great is Diana of the Ephesians! 
Great is Diana of the Ephesians !" 

Well, the whole scene reminds me of the excitement we 
witness at the autumnal elections. While the goddess 
Diana has lost her worshippers, our American people want 
to set up a god in place of it and call it political party. 
While there are true men, Christian men, standing in both 
political parties, who go into the elections resolved to serve 
their city, their state, their country, in the best possible 
way, yet in the vast majority it is a question between the 
peas and the oats. One party cries, " Great is Diana of the 
Ephesians!" and the other party cries, " Great is Diana of 
the Ephesians!" when in truth both are crying, if they 
were but honest enough to admit it, " Great is my pocket- 
book!" 

What is the duty of Christian citizenship? If the Nor- 
wegian boasts of his home of rocks, and the Siberian is 
happy in his land of perpetual snow; if the Roman thought 
the muddy Tiber was the favored river of heaven, and the 
Chinese pities everybody born out of the Flowery Kingdom, 
shall not we, in this land of glorious liberty, have some 
thought and love for country? There is a power higher 
than the ballot-box, the gubernatorial chair, or the Presi- 
dent's house. To preserve the institutions of our country 
we must recognize this power in our politics. 

See how men make every effort to clamber into higher 
positions, but are cast down. God opposes them. Every 



/Selections for Beading. 19? 

man, every nation, that proved false to divine expectation, 
down it went. God said to the house of Bourbon, " Ee- 
model France and establish equity." It would not do it. 
Down it went. God said to the house of Stuart, "Make the 
people of England happy." It would not do it. Down it 
went. He said to the house of Hapsburgh, " Eeform Austria 
and set the prisoners free." It would not do it. Down it 
went. He says to men now, " Keform abuses, enlighten the 
people, make peace and justice to reign. They don't do 
it, and they tumble down. How many wise men will go 
to the polls high with hope and be sent back to their fire- 
sides! God can spare them. If he could spare Washing- 
ton before free government was tested; Howard, while tens 
of thousands of dungeons remained unvisited; Wilberforce, 
before the chains had dropped from millions of slaves, — then 
Heaven can spare another man. The man who for party 
forsakes righteousness, goes down, and the armed battalions 
of God march over him. 



THE LEAK IK THE DIKE. 

A Story of Holland. 
Phcebe Cary. 

The good dame looked from her cottage 

At the close of the pleasant day, 
And cheerily called to her little son 

Outside the door at play: 
" Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, 

While there is light to see, 
To the hut of the blind old man who lives 

Across the dike, for me, 



198 Selections for Reading. 

And take these cakes I made for him, 
They are hot and smoking yet; 

You have time enough to go and come 
Before the sun is set. " 

Then the good wife turned to her labor, 

Humming a simple song, 
And thought of her husband working hard 

At the sluices all day long; 
And set the turf ablazing, 

And brought the coarse black bread, 
That he might find a fire at night, 

And see the table spread. 

And Peter left the brother 

With whom all day he had played, 
And the sister who had watched their sports 

In the willow's tender shade. 
And told them they'd see him back before 

They saw a star in sight, 
Though he wouldn't be afraid to go 

In the very darkest night! 

For he was a brave, bright fellow, 

With eye and conscience clear; 
He could do whatever a boy might do, 

And he had not learned to fear. 
Why, he wouldn't have robbed a bird's nest; 

Nor brought a stork to harm, 
Though never a law in Holland 

Had stood to stay his arm! 

And now with his face all glowing, 

And eyes as bright as the day. 
With thoughts of his pleasant errand 

He trudged along the way. 
And soon his joyous prattle 

Made glad a lonesome place — 
Alas! if only the blind old man 

Could have seen that happy face! 



Selections for Readin . 199 

Yet he somehow caught the brightness 

Which his voice and "presence lent ; 
And he felt the sunshine come and go 

As Peter came and went. 

And now, as the day was sinking 

And the winds began to rise, 
The mother looked from her door again, 

Shading her anxious eyes ; 
And saw the shadows deepen, 

And birds to their homes come back, 
But never a sign of Peter 

Along the level track. 
But she said: "He will come at morning, 

So I need not fret or grieve, 
Though it isn't like my boy at all 

To stay without my leave." 

But where was the child delaying? 

On the homeward way was he, 
And across the dike while the sun was up 

An hour above the sea. 
He was stooping to gather flowers, 

And listening to the sound, 
As the angry waters dashed themselves 

Against their narrow bound. 

" Ah, well for us," said Peter, 

" That the gates are good and strong, 
And my father tends them carefully, 

Or they would not hold you long. 
You're a wicked sea," said Peter; 

"I know why you fret and chafe: 
You would like to spoil our lands and homes, 

But our sluices keep you safe!" 

But hark ! Through the noise of waters 

Comes a low, clear, trickling sound; 
And the child's face pales with terror, 

And his blossoms fall to the ground. 



200 Selections for Reading. 

He is up the bank in a moment, 
And, stealing through the sand, 

He sees a stream not yet so large 
As his slender, childish hand. 

Tis a leak in the dike ! He is but a boy, 

Unused to fearful scenes, 
But young as he is he has learned to know 

The dreadful thing that means. 
A leak in the dike ! The stoutest heart 

Grows faint that cry to hear, 
And the bravest man in all the land 

Turns white with mortal fear. 
For he knows the smallest leak may grow 

To a flood in a single night; 
And he knows the strength of the cruel sea 

When loosed in its angry might. 

And the boy? He has seen the danger, 

And, shouting a wild alarm, 
He forces back the weight of the sea 

With the strength of his single arm. 
He hears the rough winds blowing, 

And the waters rise and fall, 
But never a call comes back to him 

In answer to his call. 
He sees no hope, no succor, 

His feeble voice is lost; 
Yet what shall he do but watch and wait 

Though he perish at his post? 

The good dame in the cottage 

Is up and astir with the light, 
For the thought of her little Peter 

Has been with her all the night. 
And now she watches the pathway 

As yester eve she had done ; 
But what does she see so strange and black 

Against the rising sun? 



Selections for Reading. 201 

Her neighbors are bearing between them 

Something straight to her door. 
Her child is coming home — but not 

As he ever came before! 

" He is dead!" she cries. " My darling!" 

And the startled father hears, 
And comes to look the way she looks, 

Fearing the thing she fears. 
Till a glad shout from the bearers 

Thrills the stricken man and wife — 
" Give thanks, for your son has saved our land 

And God has saved his life!" 
So there in the morning sunshine 

They knelt about the boy; 
And every head was bared and bent 

In tearful, reverent joy. 

'Tis many a year since then ; but still 

When the sea roars like a flood, 
Their boys are taught what a boy can do 

Who is brave and true and good. 
For every man in that country 

Takes his own son by the hand, 
And tells him of little Peter, 

Whose courage saved the land. 

They have many a valiant hero, 

Remembered through the years, 
But never one whose name so oft 

Is named with loving tears. 
And his deed shall be sung by the cradie 

And told to the child on the knee, 
So long as the dikes of Holland 

Divide the land from the sea* 



202 Selections for Heading. 



PARTKIDGE AT THE PLAY. 

Heney Fielding. 

Ik the first row, then, of the first gallery, did Mr. Jones, 
Mrs. Miller, her youngest daughter, and Partridge take 
their places. Partridge immediately declared it was the 
finest place he had ever been in. When the first music 
was played, he said, " It was a wonder how so many fid- 
dlers could play at one time without putting one another 
out." Nor could he help observing, with a sigh, when all 
the candles were lighted, "That here were candles enough 
burned in one night to keep an honest poor family for a 
twelvemonth." 

As soon as the play, which was Hamlet, Prince of Den- 
mark, began, Partridge was all attention, nor did he break 
silence till the entrance of the Ghost, upon which he asked 
Jones, "What man that was in the strange dress, some- 
thing," said he, "like what I have seen in a picture. Sure 
it is not armor, is it?" Jones answered, "That is the 
Ghost." To which Partridge replied with a smile, " Per- 
suade me to that, sir, if you can. Though I can't say I 
ever actually saw a ghost in my life, yet I am certain I 
should know one if I saw him better than that comes to. 
No, no, sir; ghosts don't appear in such dresses as -that 
neither." In this mistake, which caused much laughter 
in the neighborhood of Partridge, he was suffered to con- 
tinue till the scene between the Ghost and Hamlet, when 
Partridge gave that credit to Mr. Garrick which he had de- 
nied to Jones, and fell into so violent a trembling that his 
knees knocked against each other. Jones asked him what 
was the matter, and whether he was afraid of the warrior 



Selections for Reading. 203 

on the stage. "Oh, la! sir/ 3 said lie, " I perceive now it 
is what you told me. I am not afraid of anything, for I 
know it is but a play, and if it was really a ghost, it could 
do one no harm at such a distance, and in so much com- 
pany: and yet if I was frightened, I am not the only per- 
son." "Why, who," cries Jones, "dost thou take to be 
such a coward here beside thyself?" "Nay, you may call 
me coward if you will; but if that little man there upon 
the stage is not frightened, I never saw any man frightened 
in my life. Ay, ay; go along with you! Ay, to be sure! 
Who's fool then? Will you? Lud have mercy upon such 
foolhardiness! Whatever happens, it is good enough for 
you. Follow you! I'd follow the devil as soon. Nay, per- 
haps it is the devil — for they say he can put on what like- 
ness he pleases. Oh! here he is again. No farther! No, 
you have gone far enough already; farther than I'd have 
gone for all the king's dominions." Jones offered to speak, 
but Partridge cried, "Hush, hush, dear sir! don't you 
hear him?" And during the whole speech of the Ghost, 
he sat with his eyes fixed partly on the Ghost and partly 
on Hamlet, and with his mouth open; the same passions 
which succeeded each other in Hamlet succeeding likewise 
in him. 

When the scene was over, Jones said, "Why, Partridge, 
you exceed my expectations. You enjoy the play more 
than I conceived possible." "Nay, sir," answered Part- 
ridge, "if you are not afraid of the devil, I can't help it; 
but, to be sure, it is natural to be surprised at such things, 
though I know there is nothing in them: not that it was 
the Ghost that surprised me neither; for I should have 
known that to have been only a man in a strange dress; 
but when I saw the little man so frightened himself, it was 
that which took hold of me." "And dost thou imagine 



204 Selections for Reading. 

then, Partridge/' cries Jones, "that he was really fright- 
ened?" "Nay, sir/' said Partridge, " did not you yourself 
observe afterwards, when he found it was his own father's 
spirit, and how he was murdered in the garden, how his 
fear forsook him by degrees, and he was struck dumb with 
sorrow, as it were, just as I should have been, had it been 
my own case? But hush! Oh la! what noise is that? 
There he is again. Well, to be certain, though I know 
there is nothing at all in it, I am glad I am not down yon' 
der where those men are." 

During the second act, Partridge made very few remarks. 
He greatly admired the fineness of the dresses; nor could 
he help observing upon the King's countenance. " Well," 
said he, " how people may be deceived by faces! Nulla fides 
fronti is, I find, a true saying. Who would think, by 
looking in the King's face, that he had ever committed a 
murder?" He then inquired after the Ghost ; but Jones, 
who intended he should be surprised, gave him no other 
satisfaction than "that he might possibly see him again 
soon, and in a flash of fire." 

Partridge sat in fearful expectation of this; and now, 
when the Ghost made his next appearance, Partridge cried 
out, "There, sir, now; what say you now; is he frightened 
now or no? As much frightened as you think me, and to 
be sure nobody can help some fears; I would not be in so 
bad a condition as — what's his name? — Squire Hamlet is 
there, for all the world. Bless me! what's become of the 
spirit? As I am a living soul, I thought I saw him sink 
into the earth." "Indeed, you saw right," answered 
Jones. "Well, well," cries Partridge, "I know it's only a 
play; and besides, if there was anything in all this, Madam 
Miller would not laugh so; for as to you, sir, you would 
not be afraid, I believe, if the devil was here in person. 



Selections for Reading. 205 

There, there; ay, no wonder you are in such a passion; 
shake the vile, wicked wretch to pieces. If she was my 
own mother, I should serve her so. To be sure, all duty 
to a mother is forfeited by such wicked doings. Ay, go 
about your business; I hate the sight of you." 

Our critic was now pretty silent till the play which Ham- 
let introduces before the King. This he did not at first 
understand, till Jones explained it to him; but he no 
ooner entered into the spirit of it, than he began to bless 
himself that he had never committed murder. Then turn- 
ing to Mrs. Miller, he asked her, " If she did not imagine 
the King looked as if he was touched; though he is," said 
he, "a good actor, and doth all he can to hide it. Well, I 
would not have so much to answer for as that wicked man 
there hath, to sit upon a much higher chair than he sits 
upon. No wonder he ran away; for your sake Til never 
trust an innocent face again." 

The grave-digging scene next engaged the attention of 
Partridge, who expressed much surprise at the number of 
skulls thrown upon the stage. To which Jones answered, 
" That it was one of the most famous burial-places about 
town." " No wonder, then," cries Partridge, " that the 
place is haunted. But I never saw in my life a worse grave- 
digger. I had a sexton when I was clerk that should have 
dug three graves while he is digging one. The fellow han- 
dles a spade as if it was the first time he had ever had one 
in his hand. Ay, ay, you may sing. You had rather sing 
than work, I believe." Upon Hamlet's taking up the 
skull, he cried out, " Well, it is strange to see how fearless 
some men are: I never could bring myself to touch any- 
thing belonging to a dead man on any account. He seemed 
frightened enough too at the Ghost, I thought." 

Little more worth remembering occurred during the play, 



206 Selections for Reading. f 

at the end of which Jones asked him, " Which of the play- 
ers he had liked best?" To this he answered, with some 
appearance of indignation at the question, " The King, 
without doubt." "Indeed, Mr. Partridge," says Mrs. Miller, 
"you are not of the same opinion with the town; for they 
are ail agreed that Hamlet is acted by the best player who 
ever was on the stage." " He the best player!" cries Part- 
ridge, with a contemptuous sneer; " why, I could act as well 
as he myself. I am sure if I had seen a ghost, I should have 
looked in the very same manner, and done just as he did. 
And then, to be sure, in that scene, as you called it, be- 
tween him and his mother, where you told me he acted so 
fine, why, any man, that is any good man, that had such a 
mother, would have done exactly the same. I know you 
are only joking with me; but, indeed, madam, though I 
was never at a play in London, yet I have seen acting be- 
fore in the country; and the King for my money; he speaks 
all his words distinctly, half as loud again as the other- 
Anybody may see he is an actor." 



THE TEEES IN WINTEK. 
Florence Griswold. 

I think the trees are no less beautiful in winter than 
in summer. When the leaves are gone we can see the 
graceful outlines, the exquisite curves, the variety of 
angles, the heavy line of the trunks and the hair-lines 
of the twigs. As I sit in my western window, the peace- 
ful winter sunset forms a background of pale gold and 
tender blue, and the faint peach-blow tint which almost 
melts one to tears. On this evening sky are outlined 



Selections for Reading. 207 

sturdy oaks and spreading elms and slender maples, a 
whole trigonometry of angles. There are the sharp 
angles from which Gothic art learned to make the pointed 
arch, and swelling curves, and the right angles of the 
oak. It is a somewhat curious fact that the oak is the 
only tree whose branches are perpendicular to the trunk, 
and to each other. So its square, heavy outline is very 
different from the netted branch-work of the elm, or the 
brush-like sweep of the narrow poplar. 

When the glory of the sky fades away and the liquid 
evening star rises calmly over the scene, and the moon- 
light makes the snow like a bed of crystallized sunbeams, 
the trees cast stately shadows on the white earth, but 
send their sharp spires still, in silent aspiration, toward 
heaven. 

The winter tree is the image of man's naked soul. 
When the garb of leaves is thick and beautiful, we love 
the shining surfaces and deep colors, but we do not see 
the direction of growth. But when the green garment 
has dropped off, we can see that the tree — that every 
slightest twig — is aimed at heaven. Upward, higher and 
higher, outgrowing wounds and bruises, the tree points 
ever toward the sky, as the soul of man is ever reaching 
upward toward the true, the beautiful, and the good! 



THE ESSENTIALS OF TBUE REPUBLICAN 
GOVERNMENT. 

Alexander H. Stephens. 

A youxg man starting out in life on his majority, with 
health, talent, and ability, under a favoring Providence, 
mav be said to be the architect of his own fortunes. 



208 Selections for Beading. 

If he plants himself upon truth, integrity, honor, and 
uprightness, with industry, patience, and energy, he can- 
not fail of success. So it is with us. We are a young 
republic, just entering upon the arena of nations; we will 
be the architects of our own fortunes. With wisdom, pru- 
dence, and statesmanship on the part of our public men, 
and intelligence, virtue, and patriotism on the part of the 
people, success, to the full measure of our most sanguine 
hopes, may be looked for. But if unwise counsels prevail 
— if we become divided — if schisms arise — if dissensions 
spring up — if factions are engendered — if party spirit, 
nourished by unholy personal ambition, shall rear its 
hydra head, I have no good to prophesy for you. Without 
intelligence, virtue, integrity, and patriotism on the part 
of the people, no republic or representative government 
can be durable or stable. 



HOW TO EEAD. 
Johk Kuskist. 

I will try to bring before you only a few simple thoughts 
about reading which press themselves upon me every day 
more deeply as I watch the course of the public mind with 
respect to our daily enlarging means of education and the 
answeringly wider spreading on the levels of the irrigation 
of literature. 

A book is written not to multiply the voice merely, not 
to carry it merely, but to preserve it. The author has 
something to say which he perceives to be true and useful 
or helpfully beautiful. So far as he knows no one has yet 
said it. He is bound to say it, clearly and melodiously, if 
he may; clearly, at all events. In the sum of his life ho 



Selections for Reading. 21 9 

finds this to be the thing, or group of things, manifest to 
him; this the piece of true knowledge or sight which his 
share of sunshine and earth has permitted him to seize. 
He would fain set it down forever; engrave it on a rock, if 
he could, saying, " This is the best of me; for the rest, I 
ate and drank and slept and loved and hated, like another; 
my life was as the vapor and is not. But this I saw and 
knew; this, if anything of mine, is worth your memory." 
That is his "writing;" it is, in his small human way, and 
with whatever degree of true inspiration is in him, his in- 
scription or scripture. That is a "Book." 

There seems to you and me no reason why the electric 
forces of the earth should not carry whatever there is of 
gold within it at once to the mountain-top, so that kings 
and people might know that all the gold they could get 
was there; and without any trouble of digging, or anxiety, 
or chance, or waste of time, cut it away and coin as much 
as they needed. But Nature does not manage it so. She 
puts it in little fissures in the earth, nobody knows where; 
you may dig long and find none; you must dig painfully 
to find any. 

And it is just the same with men's best wisdom. When 
you come to a good book you must ask yourself, "Am I 
inclined to work as an Australian miner would? Are my 
pickaxes and shovels in good order, and am I in good trim 
myself, my sleeves well up to the elbow, and my breath 
good, and my temper? "And, keeping the figure a little 
longer, even at cost of tiresomeness, for it is a thoroughly 
useful one, — the metal you are in search of being the 
author's mind or meaning, his words are as the rock which 
you have to crush and smelt in order to get at it. Your 
pickaxes are your own care, wit, and learning; your smelt- 
ing furnace is your own thoughtful soul. Do not hope to 



210 Selections for Reading. 

get at any good author's meaning without those tools and 
that fire. And therefore, first of all, I tell you, earnestly 
and authoritatively — I know I am right in this — you must 
get into the habit of looking intensely at words and assur- 
ing yourself of their meaning, syllable by syllable, nay, 
letter by letter. You might read all the books in the 
British Museum if you could liye long enough, and remain 
an utterly uneducated person; but if you read ten pages of 
a good book, letter by letter, that is to say with real ac- 
curacy, you are forever more in some measure an educated 
person. The entire difference between education and non- 
education, as regards the merely intellectual part of it, con- 
sists in this accuracy. A well-educated gentleman may not 
know many languages — may not be able to speak any but 
his own — may have read very few books. But whatever 
language he knows, he knows precisely; whatever word he 
pronounces, he pronounces rightly. But an uneducated 
person may know by memory any number of languages, 
and talk them all, and yet truly not know a word of any — 
not a word even of his own. An ordinarily clever sea- 
man will be able to make his way ashore at most ports; yet 
he has only to speak a sentence of any language to be 
known for an illiterate person; so also the accent or turn 
of expression of a single sentence will at once mark a 
scholar. And this is so strongly felt, so conclusively ad- 
mitted by educated persons, that a false accent or mistaken 
syllable is enough, in the parliament of any civilized nation, 
to assign to a man a certain degree of inferior standing for- 
ever. And this is right; but it is a pity that the accuracy 
insisted on is not greater, and required to a serious purpose. 
It is right that a false Latin quantity should excite a smile 
in the House of Commons, but it is wrong that a false 
English meaning should not excite a frown there. Let the 



Selections for Heading. 211 

accent of words be watched, by all means, but let their 
meaning be watched more closely still, and fewer will do 
the work. 

JSTearly every word in our language has been first a word 
in some other language — Saxon, German, French, Latin, or 
Greek. Many words have been all these, that is to say 
have been Greek first, Latin next, French or German next, 
and English last; undergoing a certain change of sense and 
use on the lips of each nation; but retaining a deep, vital 
meaning which all good scholars feel in employing them 
even at this day. If you do not know your Greek alpha- 
bet, learn it; young or old, boy or girl, whoever you may 
be, if you think of reading seriously, learn your Greek 
alphabet; then get good dictionaries of all these languages, 
and whenever you are in doubt about a word, hunt it down 
patiently. It is severe work, but you will find it, even at 
first, interesting and at last endlessly amusing; while the 
general gain to your character in power and precision will 
be quite incalculable. — Sesame and Littles. 



PEESS ON! 
Park Benjamin. 



Press on! there's no such word as fail! 

Press nobly on! the goal is near, — 
Ascend the mountain! breast the gale! 

Look onward, upward, — never fear! 
Why shouldst thou faint? Heaven smiles above, 

Though storm and vapor intervene; 
That sun shines on, whose name is Love, 

Serenely o'er Life's shadowed scene. 

Press on! Surmount the rocky steeps, 
Climb boldly o'er the torrent's arch; 



212 Selections for Reading. 

He fails alone who feebly creeps, — 
He wins who dares the hero's march. 

Be thou a hero ! let thy might 
Tramp on eternal snows its way, 

And through the ebon walls of night 
Hew down a passage unto day. 

Press on! If once or twice thy feet 

Slip back and stumble, harder try; 
From him who never dreads to meet 

Danger and Death, they're sure to fly. 
In coward ranks the bullet speeds; 

While on their breasts who never quail, 
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, 

Bright courage, like a coat-of-mail. 

Press on! If Fortune play thee false 

To-day, to-morrow she'll be true; 
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, 

Taking old gifts, and granting new. 
The wisdom of the present hour 

Makes up for follies past and gone; 
To weakness strength succeeds, and power 

From frailty springs. Press on! press on! 

Press bravely on, and reach the goal, 

And gain the prize, and wear the crown; 
Faint not! for to the steadfast soul 

Come wealth and honor and renown. 
To thine own self be true, and keep 

Thy mind from sloth, thy heart from soil; 
Press on ! and thou shalt surely reap 

A heavenly harvest for thy toil. 



Selections for Reading. 213 

PATKIOTISM. 

Fisher Ames. 

Is patriotism a narrow affection for the spot where a 
man was born? Are the very clods where we tread en- 
titled to this ardent preference because they are greener? 
No, this is not the character of the virtue, and it soars 
higher for its object. It is an extended self-love, ming- 
ling with all the enjoyments of life and twisting itself 
with the minutest filaments of the heart. It is thus we 
obey the laws of society, because they are the laws of 
virtue. In their authority we see, not the array of force 
and terror, but the venerable image of our country's 
honor. Every good citizen makes that honor his own and 
cherishes it not only as precious, but as sacred. He is 
willing to risk his life in its defense, and is conscious that 
he gains protection while he gives it. 



THE WATERS AND THE SHADOW. 
Victor Hugo. 

A M Aisr overboard ! 

What matters it? the ship does not stop. The wind is 
blowing; that dark ship must keep on her destined course. 
She passes away. 

The man disappears, then reappears; he plunges and rises 
again to the surface; he calls, he stretches out his hands. 
They hear him not; the ship, staggering under the gale, is 
straining every rope; the sailors and passengers see the 
drowning man no longer; his miserable head is but a point 
in the vastness of the billows. 

He hurls cries of despair into the depths. What a spectre 



214 Selections for Beading. 

is that disappearing sail! He looks upon it; he looks upon 
it with frenzy. It moves away; it grows dim; it dimin- 
ishes. He was there but just now; he was one of the crew; 
he went and came upon the deck with the rest; he had his 
share of the air and of the sunlight; he was a living man. 
Now, what has become of him? He slipped, he fell; and 
it is finished. 

He is in the monstrous deep. He has nothing under his 
feet but the yielding, fleeing element. The waves, torn 
and scattered by the wind, close round him hideously; the 
rolling of the abyss bears him along; shreds of water are 
flying about his head; a populace of waves spit upon him; 
confused openings half swallow him; when he sinks he 
catches glimpses of yawning precipices full of darkness; 
fearful unknown vegetations seize upon him, bind his feet, 
and draw him to themselves; he feels that he is becoming 
the great deep; he makes part of the foam; the billows 
toss him from one to the other; he tastes the bitterness; 
the greedy ocean is eager to devour him; the monster plays 
with his agony. It seems as if all this were liquid hate. 
But yet he struggles. 

He tries to defend himself; he tries to sustain himself; 
he struggles; he swims. He — that poor strength that fails 
so soon — he combats the unfailing. 

Where now is the ship ? Far away yonder. Hardly 
visible in the pallid gloom of the horizon. 

The w T ind blows in gusts; the billows overwhelm him. 
He raises his eyes, but sees only the livid clouds. He, in 
his dying agony, makes part of this immense insanity of 
the sea. He is tortured to his death by its immeasurable 
madness. He hears sounds which are strange to man, 
sounds which seem to come not from earth, but from some 
frightful realm beyond. 



Selections for Reading. 215 

There are birds in the clouds even as there are angels 
aboye human distresses, but what can they do for him ? 
They fly, sing, and float, while he is gasping. 

He feels that he is buried at once by those two infinities, 
the ocean and the sky; the one is a tomb, the other a pall. 

Night descends. He has been swimming for hours; his 
strength is almost exhausted. That ship, that far-off thing, 
where there were men, is gone. He is alone in the terrible 
gloom of the abyss; he sinks, he strains, he struggles; he 
feels beneath him the shadowy monsters of the unseen; he 
shouts. 

Men are no more. Where is God? He shouts. Help! 
help ! He shouts incessantly. Nothing in the horizon. 
Nothing in the sky. He implores the blue yault, the waves, 
the rocks; all are deaf. He supplicates the tempest; the 
imperturbable tempest obeys only the infinite. 

Around him are darkness, storm, solitude, wild and un- 
conscious tumult, the ceaseless tumbling of the fierce 
waters; within him, horror and exhaustion; beneath him, 
the engulfing abyss. No resting-place. He thinks of the 
shadowy adventures of his lifeless body in the limitless 
gloom. The biting cold paralyzes him. His hands clutch 
spasmodically and grasp at nothing. Winds, clouds, whirl- 
winds, blasts, stars, all useless ! What shall he do ? He 
yields to despair; worn out, he seeks death; he no longer 
resists; he gives himself up; he abandons the contest, and 
he is rolled away into the dismal depths of the abyss forever. 

implacable march of human society ! Destruction of 
men and of souls marking its path! Ocean, where fall all 
that the law lets fall ? Ominous disappearance of aid! 
moral death ! 

The sea is the inexorable night into which the penal law 
casts its victims. The sea is the measureless misery. The 



216 Selections for Reading, 

soul drifting in that sea may become a corpse. Who shall 
restore it to life? — Les Miser aMes. 



NOBILITY. 
Alice Cary. 

True worth is in being, not seeming, 

In doing each day that goes by 
Some little good — not in the dreaming 

Of great things to do by and by. 
For whatever men say in blindness 

And spite of the fancies of youth, 
There's nothing so kingly as kindness, 

And nothing so royal as truth. 

We get back our mete as we measure, 

We cannot do wrong and love right; 
Nor can we give pain and get pleasure, 

For justice avenges each slight. 
The air for the wing of the sparrow, 

The bush for the robin and wren; 
But al way the path that is narrow 

And strait for the children of men. 

'Tis not in the pages of story 

The heart of its ills to beguile, 
Though he that pays tribute to glory 

Gives all that he hath for her smile; 
For when from her heights he has won her, 

Alas! it is only to prove 
That nothing's so sacred as honor, 

And nothing so loyal as love. 

We cannot make bargains for blisses, 
Nor catch them like fishes in nets; 

And sometimes the thing our life misses 
Helps more than the thing which it gets. 



Selections for Reading, 2 1 

For good lieth not in pursuing 

Nor gaining of great nor of small. 
But just in the doing, — and doing 

As we would be done by is all. 

Through envy, through malice, through hating, 

Against the world, early and late, 
No jot of our courage abating, 

Our part is to work and to wait. 
And slight is the sting of his trouble 

Whose winnings are less than his worth; 
For he who is honest is noble, 

Whatever his fortunes or birth. 



A THANKSGIVING GROWL. 
Eleanor Kirk. 

Oh, dear! do put some more chips on the fire, 

And hurry up that oven! Just my luck 
To have the bread slack. Set that pie up higher, 

And for goodness' sake do clear this truck 
Away! Frogs' legs and marbles on my moulding-board! 

What next, I wonder? John Henery, wash your face, 
And do get out from under foot! " Afford 

More cream"? Used what you had? If that's the case, 
Skim all the pans. Do step a little spryer! 

I wish I hadn't asked so many folks 
To spend Thanksgiving. Good gracious! poke the fire, 

And put some water on. Dear how it smokes! 
I never was so tired in all my life ! 

And there's the cake to frost, and dough to mix 
For tarts. I can't cut pumpkin with this knife! 

Some women's husbands know enough to fix 
The kitchen tools; but for all mine would care 

I might tear pumpkin with my teeth. John Henery! 
If you don't plant yourself on that ere chair 



218 Selections for Beading. 

I'll set you down so hard that you'll agree 
You're stuck for good! Them cranberries are sour, 
And taste like gall besides. Hand me some flour, 

And do fly round! John Henery, wipe your nose] 
I wonder how 'twill be when I am dead? 

"How my nose'll be"? Yes. how your nose'll be! 
And how your back '11 be! If that ain't red, 

I'll miss my guess. I don't expect you'll see — 
You nor your father neither — what I've done 

And suffered in this house. As true's I live 
Them pesky fowls ain't stuffed! The biggest one 

Will hold two loaves of bread. Say, wipe that sieve 
And hand it here. You are the slowest poke 

In all Yairmouut! Lor! There's Deacon Gobbin's wife! 
She'll be here to-morrow. That pan can soak 

A little while. I never in my life 
Saw such a lazy critter as she is! 

If she stayed home there wouldn't be a thing 
To eat. You bet she'll fill up here! " It's riz"? 

Well, so it has. John Henery! Good king! 
How did that boy get out? • You saw him go 

With both fists full of raisins, and a pie 
Behind him, and you never let me know? 

There! you've talked so much I clean forgot the rye, 
I wonder, if the Governor had to slave 

As I do, he would be so pesky fresh about 
Thanksgiving-day? He'd be in his grave 

With half my work. What! get along without 
An Indian pudding? Well, that Avould be 

A novelty. No friend or foe shall say 
I'm close, or haven't as much variety 

As other folks ! There ! I think I see my way 
Quite clear. The onions are to peel — let's see: 

Turnips, potatoes, apples there to stew; 
This squash to bake, and lick John Henery, 

And after that I really think I'm through. 



Selections for Reading. 219 



SOUND AND SENSE. 
Eobert Chambers. 

That, in the formation of language, men have been much 
influenced by a regard to the nature of the things and ac- 
tions meant to be represented, is a fact of which every 
known speech gives proof. In our own language, for in- 
stance, who does not perceive in the sound of the words 
thunder, boundless, terrible, a something appropriate to the 
sublime ideas intended to be conveyed? In the word crash 
we hear the very action implied. Imp, elf, — how descrip- 
tive of the miniature beings to which we apply them ! Fairy, 
— how light and tripping, just like the fairy herself! — the 
word, no more than the thing, seems fit to bend the grass- 
blade, or shake the tear from the blue-eyed flower. 

Pea is another of those words expressive of light, diminu- 
tive objects; any man born without sight and touch, if such 
ever are, could tell what kind of thing a pea was from the 
sound of the word alone. Of picturesque words, sylvan and 
crystal are among our greatest favorites. Sylvan ! — what 
visions of beautiful old sunlit forests, w T ith huntsmen and 
bugle-horns, arise at the sound! Crystal! — does it not 
glitter like the very thing it stands for? Yet crystal is not 
so beautiful as its own adjective. Crystalline! — why, the 
whole mind is lightened up with its shine. And this supe- 
riority is as it should be; for crystal can only be one com- 
paratively small object, while crystalline may refer to a 
mass — to a world of crystals. 

It will be found that natural objects have a larger propor- 
tion of expressive names among them than any other things. 



220 Selections for Reading. 

The eagle, — what appropriate daring and sublimity! the 
dove, — what softness! the linnet, — what fluttering gentle- 
ness! "'That which men call a rose" would not by any 
other name, or at least by many other names, smell as 
sweet. Lily, — what tall, cool, pale, lady-like beauty have 
we here! Violet, jessamine, hyacinth, anemone^, geranium! 
—beauties, all of them, to the ear as well as the eye, 

The names of the precious stones have also a beauty and 
magnificence above most common things. Diamond, sap- 
phire, amethyst, beryl, ruby, agate, pearl, jasper, topaz, 
garnet, emerald, — what a casket of sparkling sounds! Dia- 
dem and coronet glitter with gold and precious stones, like 
the objects they represent. It is almost unnecessary to bring 
forward instances of the fine things which are represented 
in English by fine words. Let us take any sublime passage 
of our poetry, and we shall hardly find a word which is in- 
appropriate in sound. For example: 

The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. 

The "gorgeous palaces," " the solemn temples," — how ad- 
mirably do these lofty sounds harmonize with objects! 

The relation between the sound and sense of certain 
words is to be ascribed to more than one cause. Many are 
evidently imitative representations of the things, move- 
ments, and acts which are meant to be expressed. Others, 
in which we only find a general relation, as between a beau- 
tiful thing and a beautiful word, a ridiculous thing and a 
ridiculous word, or a sublime idea and a sublime word, 
must be attributed to those faculties, native to every mind, 



Selections for Beading. 221 

which enable us to perceive and enjoy the beautiful, the 
ridiculous, and the sublime. 

Doctor Wall is, who wrote upon English grammar in the 
reign of Charles II. , represented it as a peculiar excellence 
of our language that, beyond all others, it expressed the 
nature of the objects which it names by employing sounds 
sharper, softer, weaker, stronger, more obscure, or more 
stridulous, according as the idea which is to be suggested 
requires. He gives various examples. Thus, words formed 
upon st always denote firmness and strength, analogous to 
the Latin stoj as, stand, stay, staff, stop, stout, steady, 
stake, stamp, etc. 

Words beginning with str intimate violent force and en- 
ergy; as, strive, strength, stress, stripe, etc. Thr implies 
forcible motion; as, throw, throb, thrust, threaten, thral- 
dom, thrill: gl, smoothness or silent motion; as, glib, glide: 
ivr, obliquity or distortion; as, wry, wrest, wrestle, wring, 
wrong, wrangle, wrath, etc.: sw, silent agitation, or lateral 
motion; as, sway, swing, swerve, sweep, swim: si, a gentle 
fall or less observable motion; as, slide, slip, sly, slit, slow, 
slack, sling: sp, dissipation or expansion; as, spread, sprout, 
sprinkle, split, spill, spring. 

Terminations in ash indicate something acting nimbly 
and sharply; as, crash, dash, rash, flash, lash, slash: ter- 
minations in ash, something acting more obtusely and 
dully; as crush, brush, hush, gush, blush. The learned 
author produces a great many more examples of the same 
kind, which seem to leave no doubt that the analogies of 
sound have had some influence on the formation of words. 
At the same time, in all speculations of this kind there is 
so much room for fancy to operate that they ought to be 
adopted with much caution in forming any general theory. 



222 Selections for Heading. 



NEW EVERY MORNING. 
Susan Coolidge. 

Every day is a fresh beginning, 

Every morn is the world made new, 
You who are weary of sorrow and sinning, 

Here is a beautiful hope for you; 

A hope for me and a hope for you. 

All the past things are past and over, 

The tasks are done and the tears are shed. 

Yesterday's errors let yesterday cover; 

Yesterday's wounds, which smarted and bled, 
Are healed with the healing which night has shed. 

Yesterday now is a part of forever, 

Bound up in a sheaf, which God holds tight, 

With glad days, and sad days, and bad days which never 
Shall visit us more with their bloom and their blight, 
Their fulness of sunshine or sorrowful night. 

Let them go, since we cannot re-live them, 

Cannot undo and cannot atone; 
God in his mercy receive, forgive them; 

Only the new days are our own. 

To-day is ours, and to-day alone. 

Here are the skies all burnished brightly, 
Here is the spent earth all re-born, 

Here are the tired limbs springing lightly 
To face the sun and to share with the morn 
In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn. 

Every day is a fresh beginning; 
Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain, 

And spite of old sorrow and older sinning, 
And puzzles forecasted and possible pain, 
Take heart with the day, and begin again. 



Selections for Reading. 223 



THE POWER OF WORDS. 
Edwlnt P. Whipple. 

Words are most effective when arranged in that order 
which is called style. The great secret of a good style, we 
are told, is to have proper words in proper places. To 
marshal one's verbal battalions in such order that they 
must bear at once upon all quarters of a subject is cer- 
tainly a great art. This is done in different ways. Swift, 
Temple, Addison, Hume, Gibbon, Johnson, Burke, are all 
great generals in the discipline of their verbal armies and 
the conduct of their paper wars. Each has a system of 
tactics of his own, and excels in the use of some particular 
weapon. 

The tread of Johnson's style is heavy and sonorous, re- 
sembling that of an elephant or a mail-clad warrior. He 
is fond of levelling an obstacle by a polysyllabic battering- 
ram. Burke's words are continually practising the broad- 
sword exercise, and sweeping down adversaries with every 
stroke. Arbuthnot "plays his weapon like a tongue of 
flame." Addison draws up his light infantry in orderly 
array, and marches through sentence after sentence with- 
out having his ranks disordered or his line broken. 

Luther is different. His words are "half battles;" "his 
smiting idiomatic phrases seem to cleave into the very 
secret of the matter." Gibbon's legions are heavily armed, 
and march with precision and dignity to the music of their 
own tramp. They are splendidly equipped, but a nice eye 
can discern a little rust beneath their fine apparel, and 
there are sutlers in his camp who lie, cog, and talk gross 
obscenity. Macaulay, brisk, lively, keen, and energetic, 



224 Selections for Reading. 

runs his thoughts rapidly through his sentence, and kicks 
out of the way every word which obstructs his passage. 
He reins in his steed only when he has reached his goal, 
and then does it with such celerity that he is nearly thrown 
backward by the suddenness of his stoppage. 

Gilford's words are moss-troopers: they waylay innocent 
travellers and murder them for hire. Jeffrey is a fine 
" lance/' with a sort of Arab swiftness in his movement, 
and runs an iron-clad horseman through the eye before he 
has time to close his helmet. John Wilson's camp is a dis- 
organized mass, who might do effectual service under better 
discipline, but who under his lead are suffered to carry on 
a rambling and predatory warfare, and disgrace their gen- 
eral by flagitious excesses. Sometimes they steal, some- 
times swear, sometimes drink, sometimes pray. 

Swift's words are porcupine's quills, which he throws 
with unerring aim at whoever approaches his lair. All of 
Ebenezer Elliot's words are gifted with huge fists, to pum- 
mel and bruise. Chatham and Mirabeau throw hot shot 
into their opponents' magazines. Talfourd's forces are 
orderly and disciplined, and march to the music of the 
Dorian flute; those of Keats keep time to the tones of the 
pipe of Phoebus; and the hard, harsh-featured battalions of 
Maginn are always preceded by a brass band. Hallam's 
word-infantry can do much execution when they are not 
in each other's way. Pope's phrases are either daggers or 
rapiers. 

Willis's words are often tipsy with the champagne of the 
fancy, but even when they reel and stagger they keep the 
line of grace and beauty, and though scattered at first by 
a fierce onset from graver cohorts, soon reunite without 
wound or loss. John Neat's forces are multitudinous, and 
fire briskly at everything. They occupy all the provinces 



Selections or Beading. 225 

of letters, and are nearly useless from being spread over too 
much ground. Everett's weapons are ever kept in good 
order, and shine well in the sun, but they are little calcu- 
lated for warfare, and rarely kill when they strike. Web- 
ster's words are thunder-bolts, which sometimes miss tjie 
Titans at whom they are hurled, but always leave enduring 
marks when they strike. 

Hazlitt's verbal army is sometimes drunk and surly, 
sometimes foaming with passion, sometimes cool and ma- 
lignant; but, drunk or sober, are ever dangerous to cope 
with. Some of Tom Moore's words are shining dirt, which 
he flings with excellent aim. This list might be indefi- 
nitely extended, and arranged with more regard to merit 
and chronology. My own words, in this connection, might 
be compared to ragged, undisciplined militia, which could 
be easily routed by a charge of horse, and which are apt to 
fire into each other's faces. 



THE LEGEXD OF THE TWO KIXGS. 

Robert Collyer. 

It was long ago and far away, 

In a summer palace — the legends say, 

Where the fragrance of roses and new-mown hay 

Was borne on the wind, while the plash and play 

Of water, from fountains sweet and clear, 

Rose and fell on the listening ear; 

And the singing of birds with the murmur of bees, 

Hidden away in the mulberry trees, 

Stole through a room where one lay still — 

The king of the land, on whose royal will 

All men waited in fear and awe, 

For the king was the fountain of life and law. 



226 Selections for Heading. 

He had sat in his hall through the morning-tide, 

While the folk had come from far and wide, 

To the seat of justice, a wondrous throng, 

That the king might judge between right and wrong 

In each man's case, and make due award; 

While on right and left stood the royal guard, 

Silent and stern, with bated breath, 

To do his bidding for life or death. 

But now he was tired and wanted a nap, 

Just forty winks, so he donned his cap, 

Silken and soft, in exchange for his crown, 

Covered himself with a quilt of down, 

Said, " This feels nice," and shut his eyes, 

Bid them close the lattice to keep out the flies; 

And let none disturb him on peril of doom, 

In the cool retreat of his darkened room! 

But the king was to have no nap that day, 

Tired as he was and falling away 

To a slumber as sweet as labor can bring, 

For right through the silence came the ring 

Of many hammers struck on steel, 

Many and mighty, peal on peal 

Of stalwart strokes, from beyond the trees, 

Drowning the murmur of water and bees, 

On the summer wind from the mountain gorge, 

Where the master smith had built his forge. 

And this was the way the story ran: 
That before the times the oldest man 
Could remember, there had been a forge 
Standing there by the mountain gorge, 
Manned by the smiths from father to son, 
Steadily held and honestly won; 
Workers in iron since the day 
When the old bronze age had passed away; 
Shoeing the horse and forging the brand, 
Strong and sure, for the soldier's hand; 



Selections for Heading. 227 

Turning the share and tiring the wheel, 
Master workmen in iron and steel; 
There they had stood from the oldest time, 
Toiling and moiling in smoke and grime, 
Upright and downright, steady and true, 
Doing the work God gave them to do. 

While the land had been held by chartered right 

Two hundred years— and maintained by might 

Of their good right hand, from father to son, 

Steadily held as honestly won; 

So that clear as the right of the king to his crown 

Was the right of the smith to have and to own 

Homestead and smithy, garden and croft, 

With all below and all aloft; 

As high as the stars and as deep as the fires, 

Full and free as the heart's desires; 

So ran the charter, fair to see, 

Dated 1010 a. d. 

But might makes right when kings grow white 
With anger, and the lurid light 
Burns in their eyes; men fear to see, 
Bending before the majesty 
Of one whose wrath is as the path 
Of the lion, from which all things flee. 
He tossed the cover away from his couch, 
And they say he swore, but I will not vouch 
For that, though we read kings have been known 
To swear in their wrath like the veriest clown; 
I only know he called the guard, 
Whose place it was to keep watch and ward, 
Bid them go forth and raze to the ground 
That forge, until no stone was found 
To stand on another, and bring the smith 
Into the royal presence forthwith, 
To hear his doom, who had dared to make 
This clamor, and keep their king awake. 
So, alas for the day, if " What shall he say 
Who comes after the king? " be Bible true, 



228 Selections for Heading. 

For what shall befall, be you freeman or thrall, 
When the king in his wrath comes after you? 

Swiftly the guard went up to the glen, 
Tojbring the smith with his stalwart men 
Into the presence of majesty — 
And they answered no word, but quietly 
Came forth of the smithy into the hall, 
And ranged themselves against the wall. 
With leathern apron and grimy face, 
Each man stood in his proper place, 
Forgemen and strikers, a hundred strong 
To fight the battle of right with wrong; 
While the folk flocked in from far and near 
Strong in courage or stricken with fear; 
They crowded the palace to hear and see 
How the smith would answer his majesty. 

And this was the way he answered the king: 
" If right makes might, then my anvil's ring 
Must be heard all *the same in this good free land, 
For no royal word can stay the hand 
Of the smith in his forge, or royal might 
Silence anvil and hammer. I stand on my right. 
In the great old time they made this rhyme, 
And carved its runes on a stone: 
By hammer and hand 
All things do stand.' 
So I counsel thee let us alone; 
And if thou wouldst sleep while we work all day, 
Move thy new palace out of my way; 
For the smith in his forge is also a king, 

No matter what may befall, 
And when his hammer ceases to ring, 

Thy kingdom will go to the wall. 

" Who shoes the horse and forges the brand, 
Strong and sure for thy soldiers' hand, 
That thy foes may be met in the battle array? 
The master smith and his men, alway. 



Selections for Reading. 229 

Who turns the share and tires the wheel? 

The master workman in iron and steel. 

Who forges the tools for mason and wright, 

To build thy walls, whose massive might 

Defies the foe and the tooth of time? 

The men of my craft, for whose sake the rhyme 

Was made and carven on the stone, 

The master smith and his men alone. 

There is my answer — now what say ye, 

Free-born men, to his majesty? " 

It was long ago and far away, 

To the east of sunrise— the legends say, 

When this thing was done, on a summer's day; 

And from that time forth, for ever and aye, 

This law was laid down for each and all, 

King and commoner, freeman or thrall: 

That wherever the smith shall set his forge, 

In town or village, by mountain or gorge, 

Holding the same by lawful right, 

And honestly working by the might 

Of his good right hand; 

That no matter what clamor 

He may happen to make with his anvil and hammer, 

He shall still be free to hold his own, 

And be proud of his cap as the king of his crown; 

Because, but for his making no thing could be made, 

And so none shall molest him or make him afraid; 

So the folk-mote laid down the law, and then 

It was signed and sealed with the great Amen! 



230 Selections for Reading. 

WALTER SCOTT. 

Johk W. Chadwick. 

Scott's temple of fortune was already tottering to its 
base when the publication of " Waverley" in 1814 signal- 
ized a success so splendid that publisher and author ban- 
ished every doubt and entered on a new career. It is terrible 
to think how different Scott's impression on the world 
would have been if he had not discovered the mine of 
fiction in himself after he had exhausted the mine of 
poetry. "Rokebyand the Bride of Triermain" and the 
"Lord of the Isles" were decidedly inferior to their pre- 
decessors, and made a much fainter appeal to the public, 
first on account of their intrinsic inferiority, and second 
because they had gone with Childe Harold on his pilgrim- 
age. "Byron beats me in poetry/' said Scott. Would he 
had gone on writing with this consciousness of being 
beaten! This is not likely. But what a happy fortune 
was that which, when his poetic vein was running low and 
the public was turning from him to a new favorite, sent 
him one day to hunt for fishing-tackle, and so mixed up 
with it the first chapter of the novel which he had begun 
nine years before and broken off! There was in it the 
corner stone of such a temple of creative art as no writer of 
prose fiction up to that time had dreamed of building, not 
soaring high but wide extended, spacious, full of light and 
air for the most part, but not without mysterious crypts 
and dark recesses, and simply infinite in the variety and 
quaintness of its details of ornament. And oh, the multi- 
tude that have gathered neath this temple's roof, upon its 
floor where every step is on some hero's name, and found 
life better worth the living because of such a fair retreat, 
and thanked God for such a name as Walter Scott! 



Selections for Beading. 231 

The wonderful success of the Waverleys on their first 
appearance, the wonderful rapidity with which they were 
brought out, the wonderful mystery that attended their 
publication — these things are commonplace to every one 
who knows the rudiments of English literature. There 
has been much discussion as to why Scott remained anony- 
mous so long. It is probable that he published Waverley 
anonymously because he did not wish to compromise his 
general literary reputation with a questionable success. 
But once having started on this course, he found that mys- 
tification was pleasant to him for its own sake, and he even 
dared to bring forward a new series after he had written 
Waverley, "Guy Mannering" and " The Antiquary/' as 
the work of a different author. But the yoice behind the 
mask was recognized at once. Still later, when his author- 
ship was an open secret, he found it pleasant travelling in 
cognito. receiving the substantial honors of a king, but able 
to spare himself much useless homage. And so it hap- 
pened that the avowal did not come till it was coupled 
with the news of his financial march. " Scott ruined! the 
author of the Waverleys ruined!" cried an enthusiastic 
admirer, "why if every one should give him sixpence 
where he has given months of pleasure, he would be as rich 
as Rothschild." 

So much fiction has been written since the time of Scott, 
and much of it has been so good, that it is not to be ex- 
pected that our enthusiasm for him should be equal to that 
which hailed the marvellous success of his stories with un- 
speakable delight. But consider a world in which there 
was as yet no Bulwer, no Dickens, no Charlotte Bronte, 
no Hawthorne, no Thackeray, and no George Eliot, and 
consider that the best that could be had was the sentimen- 
talism of Richardson or the coarseness of Fielding and 



232 Selections for Reading. 

Smollett, or the claptrap of Mesdames Rutledge and Porter, 
or at best the easy grace and quiet humor of Jane Austen, 
or Maria Edgeworth's somewhat more vigorous and home- 
lier vein; and if you wonder, it will not be that Scott was 
read by our grandfathers with such vast delight, but rather 
that the delight was not more eager and intense. The 
public of sixty years ago did not, I think, deceive itself as 
to the merits of these books. It knew what it was about 
when it exhausted immediately an edition of 12,000 copies 
of one after another, and 12,000 copies then meant 36,000 
volumes. It knew what it was about when it stayed at 
home on Sunday to read the new Waverley that had come 
out the night before; it knew what it meant when it sat 
up all night to read " Guy Mannering" or " Old Mortali- 
ty," and nothing slept but its gout. And all the readers 
did not lie on sofas, as in Carlyle's imaginary world. 
'Prentice lads and sewing-women found a world of pure 
enjoyment here, after their work was done. The average 
happiness in Scotland and England from 1815 to 1830, and 
for a long time after, must have been raised many degrees 
by these novels. And not only the average of happiness, 
but the average of truth and purity, and humanity and 
generosity and active sympathy between man and man. 

Give men the means of innocent enjoyment, and you 
break the hold of vicious pleasures on their minds. Scott 
did this as few other men have done it in all literature. 
If he had amused only idle people, lying on sofas, as 
Carlyle imagines, he would still deserve our praise, for an 
''idle brain is the devil's workshop," and these idle people 
might have done no end of mischief but for the Waverley 
novels. But who does not know that the novels have rested 
and cheered and blessed thousands and tens of thousands 
of men and women whose backs were bent with toil, and 



Selections for Reading. 233 

whose hands were callous from those labors that maintain 
the state of the world? 

Scott wanted to see Abbotsford again before he died, and 
the physicians yielded to his importunities at last. It was 
almost as sad as Garfield's journey from the capital to the 
sea, this return of Scott to his beloved banks of the Tweed. 
We turn away from these last days. We do 'not care to see 
the oak that has battled with so many tempests tottering 
in its fall. " Be a good man," he said to Lockhart in one of 
his clearest moments; " be virtuous, be religious, be a good 
man." This was four days before the end. September 
the 21st the weather was glorious. Every window was 
open and the ripple of the Tweed over its pebbles was dis- 
tinctly audible in his rooms when those who w r atched him 
saw that death had come at last. " When he departed," 
says Carlyle, "he took a man's life along with him. No 
sounder piece of British manhood was put together in that 
eighteenth century of time. Alas ! his fine Scotch face, 
with its shaggy honesty, sagacity and goodness. We shall 
never forget it. We shall never see it again. Adieu, Sir 
Walter, pride of all Scotchmen, take our proud and sad 
farewell." 



LONGING. 

James Russell Lowell. 

Of all the myriad moods of mind 

That through the soul come thronging, 
Which one was e'er so dear, so kind, 

So beautiful as Longing? 
The thing we long for, that we are 

For one transcendent moment, 
Before the Present poor and bare 

Can make its sneering comment. 



234 Selections for Heading. 

Still through our paltry stir and strife, 

Glows down the wished Ideal, 
And Longing molds in clay what Life 

Carves in the marble Real; 
To let the new life in, we know, 

Desire must ope the portal; — 
Perhaps the longing to be so 

Helps make the soul immortal. 

Longing is God's fresh heavenward will, 

With our poor earthward striving; 
"We quench it that we may be still 

Content with merely living; 
But would we learn that heart's full scope 

Which we are hourly wronging, 
Our lives must climb from hope to hope, 

And realize our longing. 

Ah! let us hope that to our praise 

Good God not only reckons 
The moments when we tread his ways, 

But when the spirit beckons, — 
That some slight good is also wrought 

Beyond self-satisfaction, 
When we are simply good in thought, 

Howe'er we fail in action. 



THE KNOCKING AT THE GATE, IN MACBETH. 

Thomas De Quikcey. 

Feom my bctyish days I had always felt a great perplexity 
on one point in Macbeth. It was this: the knocking at the 
gate, which succeeds to the murder of Duncan, produced 
to my feelings an effect for which I never could account. 
The effect was, that it reflected back upon the murder a 
peculiar awfulness and a depth of solemnity; yet, however 



Selections for Reading. 235 

obstinately I endeavored with my understanding to com- 
prehend this, for many years I never could see why it should 
produce such an effect. Here I pause for one moment, to 
exhort the reader never to pay any attention to his under- 
standing when it stands in opposition to any other faculty 
of his mind. The mere understanding, however useful and 
indispensable, is the meanest faculty in the human mind, 
and the most to be distrusted; and yet the great majority 
of people trust to nothing else; which may do for ordinary 
life, but not for philosophical purposes. 

My understanding could furnish no reason why the 
knocking at the gate in Macbeth should produce any effect, 
direct or reflected. In fact, my understanding said posi- 
tively that it could not produce any effect. But I knew 
better: I felt that it did; and I waited and clung to the 
problem until further knowledge should enable me to solve 
it. At length I solved it to my own satisfaction, and my 
solu.ion is this: Murder in ordinary cases, where the sym- 
pathy is wholly directed to the case of the murdered person, 
is an incident of coarse and vulgar horror; and for this 
reason, that it flings the interest exclusively upon the 
natural but ignoble instinct by which we cleave to life; an 
instinct which, as being indispensable to the primal law of 
self-preservation, is the same in kind (though different in 
degree) among all living creatures: this instinct, therefore, 
because it annihilates all distinctions, and degrades the 
greatest of men to the level of "the poor beetle that we 
tread on," exhibits human nature in its most abject and 
humiliating attitude. 

Such an attitude would little suit the purposes of the 
poet. What, then, must he do? He must throw, the 
interest on the murderer. Our sympathy must be with 
kim (of course I mean a sympathy of comprehension, a 



236 Selections for Reading. 

sympathy by which we enter into his feelings and are made 
to understand them — not a sympathy of pity or approba- 
tion). In the murdered person all strife of thought, all 
flux and reflux of passion and of purpose, are crushed by 
one overwhelming panic: the fear of instant death smites 
him "with its petrific mace." But in the murderer — such 
a murderer as a poet will condescend to — there must be 
raging some great storm of passion— jealousy, ambition, 
vengeance, hatred : — which will create a hell within him; 
and into this hell we are to look. 

In Macbeth," for the sake of gratifying his own enormous 
and teeming faculty of creation, Shakspeare has introduced 
two murderers; and, as usual in his hands, they are re- 
markably discriminated: but, though in Macbeth the strife 
of mind is greater than in his wife — the tiger spirit not so 
awake, and his feelings caught chiefly by contagion from 
her, — yet, as both were finally involved in the guilt of 
murder, the murderous mind of necessity is finally to be 
presumed in both. This was to be expressed; and on its 
own account, as well as to make it a more proportionable 
antagonist to the unoffending nature of their victim, "the 
gracious Duncan," and adequately to expound "the deep 
damnation of his taking off," this was to be expressed with 
peculiar energy. We were to be made to feel that the 
human nature, i.e., the divine nature of love and mercy, 
spread through the hearts of all creatures, and seldom 
utterly withdrawn from man, was gone, vanished, extinct; 
and that the fiendish nature had taken its place. And, as 
this effect is marvellously accomplished in the dialogues and 
soliloquies themselves, so it is finally consummated by the 
expedient under consideration; and it is to this that I now 
solicit the reader's attention. 

All action in any direction is best expounded, measured, 



Selections for Reading. 237 

and made apprehensible by reaction. Now apply this to 
the case in Macbeth. Here, as I have said, the retiring of 
the human heart and the entrance of the fiendish heart was 
to be expressed and made sensible. Another world has 
stepped in, and the murderers are taken out of the region 
of human things, human purposes, human desires. They 
are transfigured: Lady Macbeth is "unsexed;" Macbeth 
has forgot that he was born of woman: both are conformed 
to the image of devils; and the world of devils is suddenly 
revealed. But how shall this be conveyed and made pal- 
pable? 

In order that a new world may step in, this world must 
for a time disappear. The murderers and the murder must 
be insulated — cut off by an immeasurable gulf from the 
ordinary tide and succession of human affairs — locked up 
and sequestered in some deep recess; we must be made sen- 
sible that the world of ordinary life is suddenly arrested — 
laid asleep — tranced — racked into a dread armistice: time 
must be annihilated; relation to things without abolished; 
and all must pass self-withdrawn into a deep syncope and 
suspension of earthly passion. Hence it is that when the 
deed is done, when the work of darkness is perfect, then 
the world of darkness passes away like a pageantry in the 
clouds: the knocking at the gate is heard, and it makes 
known audibly that the reaction has commenced: the 
human has made its reflux upon the fiendish, the pulses of 
life are beginning to beat again, and the re-establishment of 
the goings-on of the world in which we live first makes us 
profoundly sensible of the awful parenthesis that had sus- 
pended them. 

mighty poet! Thy works are not as those of other 
men, simply and merely great works of art, but are also 
like the phenomena of nature — like the sun and the sea, 



238 Selections for Reading. 

the stars and the flowers, like frost and snow, rain and dew, 
hail-storm and thunder, — which are to be studied with 
entire submission of our own faculties, and in the perfect 
faith that in them there can be no too much or too little, 
nothing useless or inert; but that, the further we press in 
our discoveries, the more we shall see proofs of design and 
self-supporting arrangement where the careless eye had seen 
nothing but accident. 



THE SCHOLAR IN PUBLIC LIFE. 
Chauncey M. Depew. 

Public life has been in all free states the highest and 
noblest of ambitions. To guide the Republic, command 
listening senates, and promote the national welfare fill the 
full measure of duty and fame. But the same causes 
which threaten solid learning have changed the repre- 
sentative opportunities. The energy of business, its ab- 
sorption of all classes, its demand for uninterrupted time 
and attention, and the increase of the cost of living have 
nowhere produced such marked effects as upon our states- 
manship. Hence, the halls of Congress are gradually 
filling up with wealthy men and professional placemen. 
The glorious school in which preceding generations were 
trained for grand careers is almost disbanded. 

Convictions yield to expediency, and the ability to 
guide and the courage to resist are leaving their accus- 
tomed seats. By combinations and cunning, mediocrity 
occupies positions it cannot fill, and the " machine" 
runs for the suppression of dangerous ability and the 
division of all dividends of honor and power among its 



Selections for Reading. 239 

directors. The leaders are dependent upon followers who 
have no livelihood but office,- and who desert the setting, 
and worship the rising sun with a facility which sur- 
passes the Middle Age courtier, who cried, " The king is 
dead; long live the king! " 

There is not at this hour in public life a single recog- 
nized and undisputed leader of a great party, or the pro- 
genitor of accepted ideas. The Congressional Eecord 
is a morass of crudity and words whose boundless area 
and fathomless depths none have the courage to 
explore. The Washingtons, i^damses, and Jays of the 
first period, the Hamiltons, JefEersons, and Madisons of 
the second, the Websters, Clays, and Calhouns of the 
third, and the Sewards, Sumners, Chases, and Lincolns 
of the fourth have no successors of equal power and in- 
fluence. The debates of to-day are unread, but the utter- 
ances of these statesmen were the oracles of millions. 
Has the talent which made these men eminent died out? 
Oh, no. It is practicing law, editing newspapers, man- 
aging manufactories, mines, and commerce, building 
railroads, and directing transportation. 

If, then, those who fill the leaders' place cannot lead, 
so much greater the responsibility and duty which 
rest upon the liberally educated. Never fear but that, 
if they are true to their mission, whenever one of those 
mighty crises comes which threaten the stability of our 
institutions and demand the services of the loftiest 
patriotism and genius, from the ranks will spring other 
Websters and Clays to the council, other Sewards, Chases, 
and Stantons to the cabinet, other Lincolns to the Presi- 
dency, and other Grants, Shermans, Sheridans, and 
Thomases to the field. 



240 Selections for Reading. 

We need have no regrets for the past, or anxiety for its 
return. No time is so good as the present, no period, no 
country so rich in liberty and opportunity as ours. The 
most radical, we are also the most conservative of states. 
We can canonize William Lloyd Garrison as a reformer, 
and dismiss Dennis Kearney as a demagogue. Genius, 
which was misunderstood or ignored or persecuted or put 
to death in its own time, receives the recognition and 
applause of ours. Plato was sold into slavery, and 
Socrates compelled to drink the hemlock. Cicero pleaded 
to bought juries; Sidney and Eussell, though heroes vith 
us, were martyrs in their own age. 

While even the earlier part of this century doubted 
and opposed the railroad, tried to prevent the introduc- 
tion of gas, and sneered at and fought the telegraph, this 
decade welcomes and encourages all invention and discov- 
ery, art and letters. Twenty years ago Emerson, the 
transcendentalist, and Darwin, the evolutionist, were 
alike the objects of almost universal sneers and scoffs; 
and now the world, assigning to each the highest place in 
his sphere, stands by reverently with bared head while the 
one is buried beneath the Concord elms, and the other 
is laid away in Westminster Abbey among England's 
mighty dead. 

A recent tragedy, which shocked and stilled the world, 
brought before his countrymen a glorious example of the 
scholar in public life. While performing with rigid ex- 
actness all the duties of his calling, he never neglected 
the claims the community had upon his citizenship and 
culture. He found time every day for his allotted lines 
from the classics and pages in some book of solid worth. 

When he enlisted in the army, he mastered the cur- 



Selections for Reading. 241 

riculum of West Point in three months, and won Ken- 
tucky by crossing a swollen river, when the engineers 
could suggest no remedy, upon a bridge constructed from 
recollections of Caesar's Commentaries. He learned 
the French language to get readier access to the great 
works upon finance, when his Congressional duties de- 
manded a solution of that vital question; and reasoning 
from original principles, founded in his college life, im- 
pressed upon the Supreme Court of the United States a 
new bulwark of liberty. The broad foundation he laid at 
college, his loyalty ever after to learning, and the uses and 
duties of knowledge, developed the backwoods boy into 
the learned scholar, the good teacher, the successful sol- 
dier, the accomplished lawyer, the eloquent orator, the 
equipped statesman, and the lamented President — James 
A. Garfield. 



MACAULAY. 

William M. Punshon. 

It has not been an unfrequent charge against Macaulay 
that he had no heart. He who has no heart of his own 
cannot reach mine and make it feel. There are instincts 
in the soul of a man which tell him unerringly when a 
brother soul is speaking. Let me see a man in earnest, 
and his earnestness will kindle mine. I appky this test 
in the case of Macaulay. I am told of the greatest 
anatomist of the age suspending all speculations about 
the mastodon and all analyses of the lesser mammalia, 
beneath the spell of the sorcerer who drew the rout at 
Sedgemoor and the siege of Derry. I see Eobert Hall, 



242 Selections for Beading. 

lying on his back at sixty years of age, to learn the 
Italian language, that he might verify Macaulay's descrip- 
tion of Dante, and enjoy the " Inferno " and the " Para- 
dise " in the original. Who cannot remember the 
strange, wild heart throbs with which he reveled in the 
description of the Puritans, and the first article Qn 
Bunyan? There is something in all this more than can 
be explained by artistic grouping or by the charms of 
style. The man has convictions and sympathies of his 
own, and the very strength of those convictions and 
sympathies forces an answer from the " like passions " to 
which he appeals. 

Critics charge him with carelessness, but it is in flip- 
pant words. If he is said to exaggerate, not a few of 
them out-Herod him. Moreover, for the very modes of 
their censorship they are indebted to him. They bend 
Ulysses' bow. They wield the Douglas brand. His style 
is antithetical, and therefore they condemn him in antith- 
eses. His sentences are peculiar, and they denounce 
him in his own tricks of phrase. There can be no greater 
compliment to any man. The critics catch the con- 
tagion of the malady which provokes their surgery. 
The eagle is aimed at by the archers, but " he nursed the 
pinion which impelled the steel. " 

Before Macaulay wrote, history for the masses of 
English readers w r as as the marble statue; he came, and 
by his genius struck the statue into life. We thank him 
that he has made history readable. We thank him that 
it is not in his page the bare recital of facts, names, and 
deeds inventoried as in auctioneer's catalogue, but a 
glowing portraiture of the growth of a great nation, and 
of the men who helped or hindered it. We thank him 



Selections for Beading. 243 

that he has disposed forever of that shallow criticism, 
that the brilliant is always the superficial and unworthy, 
and that in the inestimable value of his work he has con- 
firmed what the sonorous periods of John Milton and the 
long-resounding eloquence of Jeremy Taylor, and the 
fiery passion tones of Edmund Burke had abundantly 
declared before him — that the diamond flashes with a 
rarer luster than the spangle. We thank him for the 
vividness of delineation by which we can see statesmen 
like Somers and Nottingham in their cabinets, marshals 
like Sarsfield and Luxembourg in the field, and men like 
Buckingham and Marlborough, who dallied in the council 
room and plotted at the revel. 

Above all, we thank Macaulay for the English-hearted- 
ness which throbs through his writings, and which was 
so marked a characteristic of his life. It may be well 
said of him, as he said of Pitt, " he loved his country as a 
Eoman the city of the Seven Hills, as an Athenian the city 
of the Violet Crown." How he kindles at each stirring 
or plaintive memory in the annals he was so glad to 
record! Elizabeth at Tilbury, the scattering of the fierce 
and proud Armada, the thrilling agony and bursting 
gladness which succeeded each other so rapidly at the 
siege of Derry, the last sleep of Argyle, the wrongs of 
Alice Lisle, the prayer upon whose breath fled the spirit 
of Algernon Sydney — they touch his very soul, and he 
recounts them with a fervor which becomes contagious, 
until his readers are thrilled with the same joy or pain. 

Not far from the place of his sepulture are the tablets 
of Gay, and Eowe, and Garrick, and Goldsmith. On his 
right, sleeps Isaac Barrow, the ornament of his own 
Trinity College; on his left, no clamor breaks the slumber 



244 Selections for Reading. 

of Samuel Johnson. From a pedestal at the head of the 
grave, serene and thoughtful, Addison looks down. From 
the opposite sides Shakspere, the remembrancer of 
mortality, reminds us from his open scroll that the 
" great globe itself, and all that it inhabit, shall dissolve, 
and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a rack 
behind "; and Handel, comforting us in our night of 
weeping by the glad hope of immortality, seems to listen 
while they chant forth his own magnificent hymn, " His 
body is buried in peace, but his name liveth forever- 
more." 



A UNION. 

Katherine Eggleston Junkermann. 

Once when the world was younger than now, 

Ere yet Time's hand had crossed her brow, 

On her hills there wandered and played with the breeze 

That tossed her curls and sang in the trees, 

A Maiden whose voice was sweeter than dreams, 

Whose hair more golden than the sun's beams. 

'Twas she who sang when freezes blew, 

And wakened the echoes each day anew. 

She whispered and hummed when the raindrops fell, 

And laughed with the brooks in each flowery dell. 

She sang with the stars and the ocean, too, 

And coaxed each tiny bud that grew — 

And this maiden's name was Voice. 

In a dark cavern beneath a high mount, 

So still that one each moment might count, 

Dwelt a man on whose comely but stern-looking face 

Not a sign of a smile could one ever trace. 

In his cave where the ferns and the bullrushes grew, 

And where no soft, whispering zephyrs ever blew, 



Selections for Reading. 245 

He sat and mused on the deepest things, 

And drew big squares and magical rings; 

But no sound ever came from those perfect lips 

That drank where the water of wisdom drips. 

Silent as death, still as the grave, 

He sat and dreamed in his fern-festooned cave — 

And this man was Thought. 

Once when Voice had tired of play, 

She slipped on the wings of Zephyr away. 

She sang so soft as he softly blew, 

And deeper and deeper the silence grew, 

Except for her sweet and soothing song, 

As they went through the dusky cavern along. 

Never before had they ventured here, 

But Voice's light heart knew no fear; 

She but sang the sweeter, and the gloomy old rocks 

From their stern lips lost the locks, 

And she kissed them and tossed her fair curls, 

Till they ceased to be such dull old churls. 

At length to the cavern of Thought they came 

And saw within the student's pale flame, 

And felt the silence, so still and deep, 

When Voice, of course, began to peep. 

She saw the dark and comely face; 

She saw the lines that deep thoughts trace. 

Then— the naughty creature! — she laughed out clear, 

And the strange, sweet sound fell on Thought's dull ear. 

Then the noiseless waters of Wisdom's stream 

Seemed to wake right up from their solemn dream, 

And babbled and gushed like silly girls, 

And curled themselves like Voice's curls. 

Then the little ferns began to nod, 

And the grass to sing in the silent sod, 

And the owl to hoot and fly about — 

And the very cavern seemed to shout. 

And Thought? He turned in vague surprise 
The cobweb of dreams still over his eyes, 



246 Selections for Reading. 

Till he saw the fairy, dainty maiden, 

Her flowing locks with wild flowers laden, 

Her red lips smiling, her cheeks aglow — 

Ah, well! you guess the rest, I know. 

Then into the world of warmth and light, 

Voice led dull Thought with her laughter bright; 

And he learned to read 'neath the sun's bright beams 

Such wisdom as never had come in his dreams. 

And out of this union of Voice and Thought — 

These mystical lives together brought — 

Sprang that wonder of wonders, the great world's glory, 

That marvelous thing called " Oratory." 



THE ELEMENTS OP NATIONAL WEALTH. 
James G. Blaine. 

The territory which we occupy is at least three mil- 
lion square miles in extent, within a fraction as large as 
the whole of Europe. The State of Texas alone is equal 
in area to the empire of France and the kingdom of 
Portugal united; and yet these two monarchies support a 
population of forty millions, while Texas has but six 
hundred thousand inhabitants. The land that is still in 
the hands of government, not sold or even pre-empted, 
amounts to a thousand million of acres — an extent of ter- 
ritory thirteen times as large as Great Britain, and equal 
in area to all the kingdoms of Europe, Eussia, and Tur- 
key alone excepted. 

Combined with this great expanse of territory, we have 
facilities for the acquisition and consolidation of wealth 
— varied, magnificent, immeasurable. The single State 
of Illinois, cultivated to its capacity, can produce as large 
a crop of cereals as has ever been grown within the limits 



Selections for Reading. 247 

of the United States, while Texas, if peopled but half as 
densely as Maryland even, could give an annual return 
of cotton larger than the largest that has ever been grown 
in all the Southern States combined. 

Our facilities for commerce and exchange, both domes- 
tic and foreign — who shall measure them? Our oceans, 
our vast inland seas, our marvelous flow of navigable 
streams, our canals, our network of railroads more than 
thirty thousand miles in extent — these give us avenues 
of trade and channels of communication both natural 
and artificial such as no other nation has ever enjoyed. 
Our mines of gold and silver and iron and copper and 
lead and coal, with their untold and unimaginable wealth, 
spread over millions of acres of territory, in the valley, 
on the mountain side, along rivers, yielding already a 
rich harvest, are destined yet to increase a thousandfold, 
until their everyday treasures, 

" . . . familiar grown, 
Shall realize Orient's fabled dream." 

These are the great elements of material progress, and 
they comprehend the entire circle of human enterprise — 
agriculture, commerce, manufactures, mining. They give 
into our hands, under the blessing of Almighty God, the 
power to command our fate as a nation. They hold out 
to us the grandest future reserved for any people; and 
with this promise they teach us the lesson of patience, 
and render confidence and fortitude a duty. 

With such amplitude and affluence of resources, and 
with such a vast stake at issue, we should be unworthy 
of our lineage and our inheritance if we for one moment 
distrusted our ability to maintain ourselves a united peo- 
ple, with " one country, one constitution, one destiny." 



248 Selections for Reading. 

ELOQUENCE OP THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION. 
Rufus Choate. 

Men heard that eloquence in 1776, in that manifold 
and mighty appeal by the genius and wisdom of that new 
America, to persuade the people to take on the name of 
nation, and begin its life. By how many pens and 
tongues that great pleading was conducted; through how 
many months before the date of the actual Declaration, 
it went on, day after day; in how many forms, before how 
many assemblies, from the village newspaper, the more 
careful pamphlet, the private conversation, the town-meet- 
ing, the legislative bodies of particular colonies, up to the 
hall of the immortal old Congress, and the master intelli- 
gences of lion heart and eagle eye, that ennobled it — all 
this you know. But the leader in that great argument 
was John Adams of Massachusetts. He, by concession 
of all men, was the orator of that Revolution — the Revo- 
lution in which a nation was born. Other and renowned 
names, by written or spoken eloquence, co-operated 
effectively, splendidly, to the grand result — Samuel 
Adams, Samuel Chase, Jefferson, Henry, James Otis in 
an earlier stage. Each of these, and a hundred more, 
within circles of influence wider or narrower, sent forth, 
scattering broadcast, the seed of life in the ready virgin 
soil. Each brought some specialty of gift to the work: 
Jefferson, the magic of style, and the habit and the power 
of delicious dalliance with those large, fair ideas of free- 
dom and equality, so dear to man, so irresistible in that 
day; Henry, the indescribable and lost spell of the speech 
of the emotions, which fills the eye, chills the blood, turns 



Selections for Reading. 249 

the cheek pale — the lyric phase of eloquence, the " fire- 
water," as Lamartine has said, of the Kevolution, in- 
stilling into the sense and the soul the sweet madness of 
battle; Samuel Chase, the tones of anger, confidence, and 
pride, and the art to inspire them. John Adams' elo- 
quence alone seemed to have met every demand of the 
time; as a question of right, as a question of pru- 
dence, as a question of immediate opportunity, as 
a question of feeling, as a question of conscience, 
as a question of historical and durable and innocent 
glory, he knew it all through and through, and in that 
mighty debate, which, beginning in Congress as far 
back as March or February, 1776, had its close on the 
second and on the fourth of July, he presented it in all 
its aspects, to every passion and affection, — to the burn- 
ing sense of wrong, exasperated at length beyond control 
by the shedding of blood; to grief, anger, self-respect; to 
the desire of happiness and of safety; to the sense of 
moral obligation, commanding that the duties of life are 
more than life; to courage, which fears God, and knows 
no other fear; to the craving of the colonial heart, of 
all hearts, for the reality and the ideal of country, and 
which cannot be filled unless the dear native land comes 
to be breathed on by the grace, clad in the robes, armed 
with the thunders, admitted an equal to the assembly of 
the nations; to that large and heroical ambition which 
would build states, that imperial philanthropy which 
would open to liberty an asylum here, and give to the 
sick heart, hard fare, fettered conscience of the children 
of the Old World, healing, plenty, and freedom to 
worship God, — to these passions, and these ideas, he pre- 
sented the appeal for months, day after day, until on the 



250 Selections for Reading. 

third of July, 1776, he could record the result, writing 
thus to his wife: "Yesterday the greatest question was 
decided which ever was debated in America; and a 
greater, perhaps, never was, nor will be, among men." 

Of that series of spoken eloquence all is perished; not 
one reported sentence has come down to us. The voice 
through which the rising spirit of a young nation 
sounded out its dream of life is hushed. The great 
spokesman, of an age unto an age, is dead. 

And yet, of those lost words is not our whole America 
one immortal record and reporter? Do ye not read them, 
deep cut, defying the tooth of time, on all the marble 
of our greatness? How they blaze on the pillars of the 
Union! How is their deep sense unfolded and interpreted 
by every passing hour! How do they come to life, and 
grow audible, as it were, in the brightening rays of the 
light he foresaw, as the fabled invisible heart gave out 
its music to the morning! 

Yes, in one sense, they are perished. No parchment 
manuscript, no embalming printed page, no certain tradi- 
tions of living or dead, have kept them. Yet, from out and 
from off all things around us, — our laughing harvests, 
our songs of labor, our commerce on all the seas, our se- 
cure homes, our schoolhouses and churches, our happy 
people, our radiant and stainless flag, — how they come 
pealing, pealing, Independence now, and Independence 
forever! 



Selections for Reading. 251 

THE SOULS OF BOOKS. 

Edward Bulwer-Lytton. 

Sit here and muse! It is an antique room, 

High-roofed, with casements through whose purple pane 
Unwilling daylight steals amidst the gloom, 

Shy as a fearful stranger. There they reign 
In loftier pomp than wakiug life had known, 

The kings of Thought! Not crowned until the grave. 
When Agamemnon sinks into the tomb, 

The beggar Homer mounts the monarch's throne! 

Ye ever-living and imperial souls, 
Who rule us from the page in which ye breathe! 
What had we been, had Cadmus never taught 
The art that fixes into form the thought; 
Had Plato never spoken from his cell, 
Or his high harp blind Homer never strung? 
Kinder all earth hath grown since genial Shakespeare 
sung. 

Lo, in their books, as from their graves, they rise, 
Angels that, side by side, upon our way 
Walk with and warn us! Hark! the world so loud, 
And they, the movers of the world, so still! 
They made yon preacher zealous for the truth, 
They made yon poet wistful for the star; 
Gave age its pastime, fired the cheek of youth; 
The unseen sires of all our beings are. 

All books grow homilies by time; they are 
Temples, at once, and landmarks. In them we 
Who, but for them, upon that inch of ground 
We call " the Present," from the cell could see 
No daylight trembling on the dungeon bar, — 
Turn as we list the world's great axle round, 
Traverse all space, and number every star, 
And feel the near less household than the far! 



252 Selections for Reading. 

There is no Past, so long as shall live! 

Rise up, ye walls, with gardens blooming o'er! 

Ope but that page — lo! Babylon once more! 

Books make the Past our heritage and home; 
And is that all? No! our lights they are 
To the dark bourne beyond; in them are sent 
The types of truths whose life is the To-come; 
In them soars up the Adam from the fall, 
In them the Future as the Past is given; 
Even in our death they bid us hail our birth: 
Unfold these pages, and behold the heaven 
Without one gravestone left upon the earth! 



THE PULPIT AND POLITICS. 
Charles H. Parkhurst, D. D. 

The particular political stripe of a municipal adminis- 
tration is no matter of our interest and none of our 
business; but to strike at iniquity is the business of the 
church. It is primarily what the church is for, no matter 
in what connection that sin may find itself associated 
and intermixed. If it is proper for us to go around clean- 
ing up after the devil, it is proper for us to fight the devil. 
If it is right to cure, it is right to prevent, and a thou- 
sand times more economical and sagacious. Eepublicans 
and Democrats we have nothing to do with, but sin is our 
particular province to ferret out, to publish, and, in un- 
adorned Saxon, to stigmatize. 

And sin, be it remembered, never gets tired; never is 
low-spirited; has the courage of its convictions; never 
fritters away its power and its genius pettifogging over 
side issues. And so piety, when it fronts sin ; has got to 



Selections for Beading. 253 

become grit. Salt is a concrete commodity, and requires 
to be rubbed into the very pores of decay. I scarcely 
ever move into the busy parts of this town without feel- 
ing in a pained way how little of actual touch there is 
between the life of the church and the life of the times. 

I have no criticism to pass on the effort to improve 
the quality of civilization in Central Africa, but it would 
count more in the moral life of the world to have this 
city, where the heart of the country beats, dominated in 
its government by the ethical principles insisted on by 
the Gospel than to have evangelical light a hundred 
miles broad thrown clear across the Dark Continent. 
And the men and women that live here are the ones to do 
it. It is achievable. What Christianity has done Chris- 
tianity can do. 

In the pulpit to-day there is not a great deal of states- 
manship, and outside of it there is not any — that I know 
of. There is politics, but there is not statesmanship. 
Do you know what the difference is between statesman- 
ship and politics? Well, politics is statesmanship with 
the moral gristle left out. But how long has it been 
since anybody at Washington has stood up in the strength 
of a Wilson, a Sumner, a Webster, or an Elijah, and 
spoken the word that has drawn to a snug attention the 
moral sense of this great people? We used to have 
speeches made there that would ring clear across the con- 
tinent and clear the air for a decade. But there is no 
longer the Samson at Washington that will fling his arms 
about the two pillars and bow himself mightily. 

So that at present if you are going to have statesmen 
you will have to look to the pulpit for them. And is 
there a place where one would have any better right to 



254 Selections for Reading. 

expect them to abound? If there is any Moses who can 
climb to the top of Sinai and commune with God and be- 
hold with an unabashed eye the realities that compose 
the tissue of all history, why should he not lead the 
waiting host when he gets back to the foot of the moun- 
tain? Why leave it to dirty Aaron, who, meantime, has 
been stripping the people and building golden calves? 
The idea of a rabble of cutthroats, thieves, thugs, and 
libertines presuming to stand up and tell God's prophets 
to keep their hands off the ark of the covenant, when 
the sole regard they have for the ark is their sacrilegious 
appetite for the golden pot of manna that is preserved 
in the interior of the ark! 

There is moral material enough in community, but it 
lacks leadership. The prophets of God are here to meet 
that exigency. That is what they are for; to foster and 
train moral sentiment, to compact and marshal it, and 
hold it along lines of earnest and intelligent devotement 
to the common weal. 



TIME. 
F. "W. Robertson. 



Time is the solemn inheritance to which every man is 
born heir, who has a life-rent of this world, — a little sec- 
tion cut out of eternity, and given us to do our work in; 
an eternity before, an eternity behind: and the small 
stream between, floating swiftly from the one into the 
vast bosom of the other. The man who has felt, with all 
his soul, the significance of time, will not be long in 
learning any lesson that this world has to teach him. 



Selections for Reading. 255 

Have you ever felt it? Have you ever realized how 
your own little streamlet is gliding away and bearing 
you along with it towards that awful other world of 
which all things here are but thin shadows, down into 
that eternity towards which the confused wreck of all 
earthly things is bound? 

Let us realize that until that sensation of time, and 
the infinite meaning which is wrapped up in it, has taken 
possession of our souls, there is no chance of our ever 
feeling strongly that it is worse than madness to sleep 
that time away. Every day in this world has its work; 
and every day, as it rises out of eternity, keeps putting 
to each of us the question afresh, What will you do 
before to-day has sunk into eternity and nothingness 
again? 

And now what have we to say with respect to this 
strange, solemn thing — time? That men do with it 
through life just what the apostles did for one precious 
and irreparable hour of it in the garden of Gethsemane 
— they go to sleep! Have you ever seen those marble 
statues, in some public square or garden, which art has 
so finished into a perennial fountain that through the 
lips or through the hands the clear water flows in a per- 
petual stream on and on forever, and the marble stands 
there, — passive, cold, — making no effort to arrest the 
gliding water? 

It is so that time flows through the hands of men — 
swift, never pausing till it has run itself out; and there 
is the man petrified into a marble sleep, not feeling what 
it is which is passing away forever! It is so, just so, that 
the destiny of nine men out of ten accomplishes itself, 
slipping away from them aimless, useless, till it is too 



256 Selections for Reading. 

late. And we are asked, with all the solemn thoughts 
which crowd around our approaching eternity, What 
has been our life, and what do we intend it shall be? 

Yesterday, last week, last year, — they are gone! Yes- 
terday was such a day as never was before, and never 
can be again. Out of darkness and eternity it was born, 
a new, fresh day; into darkness and eternity it sank 
again forever. It had a voice, calling to us of its own, 
— its own work, its own duties. What were we doing 
yesterday? Idling, whiling away the time, in light and 
luxurious literature; not as life's relaxation, but as life's 
business? Thrilling our hearts with the excitement of 
life, contriving how to spend the day most pleasantly! 
Was that our day? 

'All this is but the sleep of the three apostles. And 
now let us remember this: There is a day coming when 
the sleep will be broken rudely — with a shock; there is 
a clay in our future lives when our time will be counted, 
not by years, nor by months, nor yet by hours, but by 
minutes, — the day when unmistakable symptoms shall 
announce that the messenger of death has come to 
take us. 

That startling moment will come, which it is in vain to 
attempt to realize now, when it will be felt that it is all 
over at last — that our chance and our trial are gone for- 
ever. The moment that we have tried to think of, 
shrunk from, put away from us, here it is — -going, too, 
like all other moments that have gone before it; and then, 
with eyes unsealed at last, we shall look back on the life 
which is gone by. 



Selections for Beading. 257 

TELL'S APOSTROPHE TO LIBERTY. 

J. S. Knowles. 

Once more I breathe the mountain air; once more 

I tread my own free hills! My lofty soul 

Throws all its fetters off; in its proud flight, 

'Tis like the new-fledged eaglet, whose strong wing 

Soars to the sun it long has gazed upon 

With eye undazzled. O! ye mighty race 

That stand like frowning giants, fixed to guard 

My own proud land; why did ye not hurl down 

The thundering avalanche, when at your feet 

The base usurper stood? A touch, a breath, 

Nay, even the breath of prayer, ere now, has brought 

Destruction on the hunter's head; and yet 

The tyrant passed in safety. God of heaven! 

Where slept thy thunderbolts? 

O Liberty! 
Thou choicest gift of Heaven, and wanting which 
Life is as nothing; hast thou then forgot 
Thy native home? Must the feet of slaves 
Pollute this glorious scene? It cannot be. 
Even as the smile of Heaven can pierce the depths 
Of these dark caves, and bid the wild flowers bloom 
In spots where man has never dared to tread; 
So thy sweet influence still is seen amid 
These beetling cliffs. Some hearts still beat for thee, 
And bow alone \o Heaven; thy spirit lives, 
Aye, — and -shall live, when even the very name 
Of tyrant is forgot. 

Lo! while I gaze 
Upon the mist that wreathes yon mountain's brow, 
The sunbeam touches it, and it becomes 
A crown of glory on his hoary head; 
! is not this a presage of the dawn 



258 Selections for Beading. 

Of freedom o'er the world? Hear mo, then, bright 
And beaming Heaven! while kneeling thus, I vow 
To live for Freedom, or with her to die! 

O ! with what pride I used 
To walk these hills, and look up to my God 
And bless Him that it was so. It was free, — 
From end to end, from cliff to lake 'twas free, — 
Free as our torrents are, that leap our rocks, 
And plow our valleys, without asking leave; 
Or as our peaks, that wear their caps of snow, 
In very presence of the regal sun ! 
How happy was I in it then ! I loved 
Its very storms! Yes, I have sat and eyed 
The thunder breaking from His cloud, and smiled 
To see Him shake His lightnings o'er my head, 
And think I had no master save His own! 

Ye know the jutting cliff, round which a track 

Up hither winds, whose base is but the brow 

To such another one, with scanty room 

For two abreast to pass? O'ertaken there 

By the mountain blast, I've laid me flat along, 

And while gust followed gust more furiously, 

As if to sweep me o'er the horrid brink, 

And I have thought of other lands, whose storms 

Are summer flaws to those of mine, and just 

Have wished me there, — the thought that mine was free, 

Has checked that wish, and I have raised my head, 

And cried in thraldom to that furious wind, 

Blow on! This is the Land of Liberty! 



Selections for Reading. 259 

THE BENEFICENCE OF GKASS. 
John J. Ingalls. 

" Next in importance to the divine profusion of water, 
light, and air, those three great physical facts which ren- 
der existence possible, may be reckoned the universal be- 
neficence of grass. Lying in the sunshine among the but- 
tercups and dandelions of May, scarcely higher in intelli- 
gence that the minute tenants of that mimic wilderness, 
our earliest recollections are of grass; and when the fitful 
fever is ended, and the foolish wrangle of the market 
and forum is closed, grass heals over the scar which our 
descent into the bosom of the earth has made, and the 
carpet of the infant becomes the blanket of the dead. 

Grass is the forgiveness of nature — her constant bene- 
diction. Fields trampled with battle, saturated with 
blood, torn with the ruts of cannon, grow green again 
with grass, and carnage is forgotten. Streets abandoned 
by traffic become grass-grown like rural lanes, and are 
obliterated. Forests decay, harvests perish, flowers van- 
ish, but grass is immortal. It invades the solitude of 
deserts, climbs the inaccessible slopes and forbidden 
pinnacles of mountains, modifies climates, and determines 
the history, character, and destiny of nations. Unob- 
trusive and patient, it has immortal vigor and aggression. 
Banished from the thoroughfare and the field, it bides 
its time to return, and silently resumes the throne from 
which it has been expelled, but which it never abdicates. 
It bears no blazonry of bloom to charm the senses with 
fragrance or splendor, but its homely hue is more en- 
chanting than the lily or the rose. It yields no fruit in 



260 Selections for Heading. 

earth or air, and yet should its harvest fail for a single 
year, famine would depopulate the world. 



A BATTLE OF ICEBEBGS. 

"Well, Jack, my boy, d'ye see anything? Keep a 
bright lookout, you know, for we all looks to you! " 
" Come, don't make fun o' me, Bob! PVaps I'll have as 
sharp eyes as yourn afore Fm half your size/' Anybody 
might have well wondered to hear a child's voice speak- 
ing from the mast-head of a North Sea whaler, and still 
more surprised would he have been at sight of the figure 
from which that voice proceeded. There were two per- 
sons in the " crow's-nest," as the lookout post of a whaler 
is called. This is simply a big cask firmly lashed to the 
mast with small ropes, and supported by two pieces of 
stout planking. 

One of the two watchers on this occasion was a grim 
old sailor, with a voice as harsh as his face, which, 
roughened by the storms of. fifty years, and framed in 
short iron-gray hair and whiskers, looked very much like 
the battered figure-head of some weather-worn old ship. 
His companion was a little boy of ten, whose fair hair 
and round ruddy face appeared quite babyish beside the 
granite-hewned visage of the " old salt." But young as 
he looked, Jack Eaikes was no baby. Those blue eyes 
of his were as sharp as any on board; and to run up the 
weather-rigging in a stiff breeze, climb to the mast-head 
and hang his cap on it, was mere play to " little Jack," 
as the sailors affectionately called him. 

" So, my lad," said Bob Watson, laughing, " you thinks 



Selections for Beading. 261 

your eyes '11 be as good as mine afore long. "Well, you're 
a sharp-sighted 'un for your age, you are, but I don't 
know as how you're quite up to me yet. Come, s'pose 
we tries which '11 sight a whale first?" But the smile 
soon vanished from the old seaman's face, as a gleam of 
sunshine fades into a rising cloud. He arched his hand 
over his eyes, and gazed fixedly on the northward, his 
look becoming graver and graver with every moment, 
until Jack was quite startled. " What's up, Bob? Any- 
thing wrong? " " Can't say yet, lad, but I'm afeard so. 
Let's have another look. Yes, it's just as I thought. 
God help us ! " And putting both hands to his mouth, he 
shouted at the top of his voice, " Deck, ahoy! Look out 
for ice! " 

The men, who were lying idly about the deck, sprang 
to their feet at once, and there was a sudden bustle which 
showed that the warning had been heard and understood. 
"Where away?" hallooed the captain. " Eight ahead — 
two on 'em bearin' down upon us! " The captain's hard 
mouth set itself a little tighter, but that was all. He 
threw a quick glance to windward, and then shouted to 
the steersman, "Keep her away a point or two! " "Ay, 
ay, sir! " 

There was no sign of fear in either captain or crew — 
only a grave, subdued look on every face, which showed 
that they fully understood their danger, although it could 
not terrify them. And yet the peril was one which might 
well have dismayed the bravest man alive. Once caught 
between the two approaching mountains of ice, the vessel 
would be crushed like an egg-shell, and she and all her 
crew sent to the bottom together. Nor did there seem 
to be much chance of escape. The wind was light, and 



262 Selections for Beading. 

what little there was of it was driving the ship straight 
towards the icebergs as they drifted with the current. 
Unless they should change their course, or the wind shift 
suddenly, the doom of both ship and crew appeared 
certain. 

Little Jack had caught sight of the advancing masses 
almost as soon as his old friend, and the sudden paling 
of his ruddy cheeks showed how fully he understood the 
situation. He looked wistfully up into Bob's face, as if 
to ask whether there was any hope for them; and the 
old sailor, mindful of his little pet even in the teeth of 
that deadly peril, answered as cheerily as ever: " Well, 
Jack, my son, them two lubbers are trying to outma- 
noover us, ain't they? But you jist see if we don't git 
the weather-gauge on 'em yet! " By this time the ice- 
bergs were near enough to be plainly visible from the 
deck, and the sudden chilling of the air by their ap- 
proach, like the coldness of coming death, was felt by 
every man on board. Onward they came, those great 
cathedrals of frost, slowly, steadily, mercilessly, like the 
march of a destroying army. x\nd all the while the sea 
around them was blue and bright, and the sun shone 
brightly in a cloudless sky, and the great battlements of 
ice glowed like rainbows with every variety of gorgeous 
coloring — blue, red, green, and gold. And so, with all 
the beauty and splendor of life around them, the doomed 
men stood silently awaiting death. 

Old Bob set his teeth hard, and pressed his hand firmly 
upon little Jack's shoulder. " 'Tain't for myself as I 
minds it," he muttered, "for my time's pretty nigh up; 
but it do seem hard for this little chap to be cut off in 
his just blossomin' like. If my life could go for his'n 2 



Selections for Reading, 263 

God knows Fd give it gladly." And now, as if to destroy 
the last chance of escape, her terrible assailants parted 
suddenly, the one bearing down upon her port and the 
other upon her starboard quarter, as if to shut her in 
between them. Even the iron-nerved captain changed 
color, and flung down his speaking-trumpet in despair. 
But just as all hope seemed gone, the long-hoped-for 
shift of the wind came. 

"Starboard your helm! — starboard!" roared the cap- 
tain instantly. " Starboard it is." 

One quick turn of the helm, and the vessel glided past 
the nearest berg, so close that one of the projecting ice- 
points scraped her taffrail. Even that slight contact 
with the mighty mass made her whole frame quiver from 
stem to stern; but the danger was past, and the crew 
breathed freely once more. " Xow, my boys," shouted 
the youngest of the men, " stand by and see them two 
have it out by theirselves." It was even so. The two 
destroyers, balked of their prey, were rushing straight 
upon each other. The wind had lulled again as if hold- 
ing its breath for the coming battle, and all was as still 
as death, when the two moving mountains clashed 
together. 

There came a crash to which the loudest thunder 
would have been as nothing, and the smooth sea boiled 
up into huge waves, dashing the vessel about like a toy, 
while the very air was darkened with flying splinters of 
ice. When the rush passed, the contending icebergs were 
seen to be at some distance, swaying dizzily to and fro 
like two living combatants reeling under a heavy stroke. 
"At it again, old fellers! " cried young Simmonds; "that 
first bout don't count neither way." Again came the ter- 



264 Selections for Reading. 

rible shock, followed by a fierce, grinding crash, as a 
huge pinnacle of ice, heavy enough to sink a hundred- 
gun ship, fell thundering into the sea. " Port your helm! 
— port!" shouted the captain. " Port it is," answered 
the steersman coolly, and the vessel sheered off. She 
was not a moment too soon. Hardly had she got clear 
when the nearest iceberg was seen to lurch heavily for- 
ward. For an instant it rocked violently to and fro, and 
then plunged down into the sea, with a noise that might 
have been heard for miles. The billows cast up by its 
fall tossed the strong ship aloft like a feather, flinging 
all the crew upon their faces, and for a moment sea and 
sky were all one blinding whirl of foam. 

There was a moment of awful silence, then nothing 
could be heard but the groaning of the ship's timbers 
and the awful roar of the waves. Then, as the fright- 
ened men rose to their feet, Bill Simmonds cried out, 
" We ain't dead this time, anyway." But old Bob Wat- 
son drew little Jack to his side, and whispered to him, 
" Jack, lad, when ye say yer prayers to-night, don't for- 
get to thank God for savin' us, for if 't wasn't for that 
shift o' wind, all our lives warn't worth that." 



TIMES GO BY TURNS. 

Robert Southwell. 

The loppM tree in time may grow again, 

Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; 

The sorriest wight may find release of pain; 
The driest soil suck up some moistening shower; 

Times go by turns, and chances change by course, 

From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. 



Selections for Reading. 265 

The sea of fortune doth not ever flow; 

She draws her favors to the lowest ebb; 
Her tides have equal times to come and go; 

Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; 
No joy so great but runneth to an end, 
No hap so hard but may in fine amend. 

Not always fall of leaf, nor ever spring; 

Not endless night, nor yet eternal day; 
The saddest birds a season find to sing. 

The roughest storm a calm may soon allay, 
Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all, 
That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. 

A chance may win that by mischance was lost; 

That net that holds no great, takes little fish; 
In some things all, in all things none, are crossed; 

Few all they need, but none have all they wish. 
Unmingled joys here to no man befall; 
Who least, have some; who most, have never all. 



THE MINUTE MAN OP THE KEVOLUTION. 
George William Curtis. 

The Minute Man of the Kevolution! And who was 
he? He was the husband and father, who left the 
plow in the furrow, the hammer on the bench, and, kiss- 
ing his wife and children, marched to die or to be free! 
He was the old, the middle-aged, the young. He was 
Captain Miles of Acton, who reproved his men for jesting 
on the march! He was Deacon Josiah Haines of 
Sudbury, eighty years old, who marched with his com- 
pany to South Bridge, at Concord, then joined in that 
hot pursuit to Lexington, and fell as gloriously as War- 
ren at Bunker Hill. He was James Hayward of Acton, 



266 Selections for Reading. 

twenty-two years old, foremost in that deadly race from 
Charlestown to Concord, who raised his piece at the same 
moment with a British soldier, each exclaiming, "You 
are a dead man! " The Briton dropped, shot through 
the heart. Hayward fell, mortally wounded. 

" Father," said he, " I started with forty balls; I have 
three left. I never did such a day's work before. Tell 
mother not to mourn too much; and tell her whom I 
love more than my mother that I am not sorry I turned 
out." 

This was the Minute Man of the Kevolution! The 
rural citizen, trained in the common school, the town 
meeting, who carried a bayonet that thought, and whose 
gun, loaded with a principle, brought down, not a man, 
but a system. With brain and heart and conscience all 
alive, he opposed every hostile order of British counsel. 
The cold Grenville, the brilliant Townsend, the reckless 
Hillsborough derided, declaimed, denounced, laid unjust 
taxes, and sent troops to collect them; and the plain 
Boston Puritan laid his finger on the vital point of the 
tremendous controversy, and held to it inexorably. In- 
trenched in his own honesty, the king's gold could not 
buy him; enthroned in the love of his fellow-citizens, the 
king's writ could not take him; and when, on the morn- 
ing at Lexington, the king's troops marched to seize him, 
his sublime faith saw, beyond the clouds of the moment, 
the rising sun of the America we behold, and, careless of 
himself, mindful only of his country, he exultingly ex- 
claimed, " Oh, what a glorious morning! " He felt that 
a blow would soon be struck that would break the heart 
of British tyranny. His judgment, his conscience, told 
him the hour had come. 



Selections for Heading. 267 

Do you remember, in that disastrous siege in India, 
when the little Scotch girl raised her head from her 
pallet in the hospital, and said to the sickening hearts of 
the English, "I hear the bagpipes; the Campbells are 
coming " ? And they said, " No, Jessie; it is delirium." 
" No, I know it; I heard it far off." And in an hour the 
pibroch burst upon their glad ears, and the banner of 
Saint George floated in triumph over their heads. And 
so, at Lexington Square, the Minute Man of the Eevolu- 
tion heard the first notes of the jubilee which, to-day, 
rises from the hearts and fills the minds of a free people. 



TEUE STATESMANSHIP. 

Edmund .Burke. 

The true lawgiver ought to have a heart full of sensi- 
bility. He ought to love and respect his kind, and to 
fear himself. It may be allowed to his temperament to 
catch his ultimate object with an intuitive glance, but his 
movements toward it ought to be deliberate. Political 
arrangement, as it is a work for social ends, is to be 
wrought only by social means. There mind must con- 
spire with mind. Time is required to produce all the 
good we aim at. Our patience will achieve more than 
our force. If I might venture to appeal to what is so 
much out of fashion in Paris, I mean to experience, I 
should tell you that in my course I have known, and, 
according to my measure, have. co-operated with great 
men; and I have never yet seen any plan which has not 
been mended by the observations of those who were much 
inferior in understanding to the person who took the 



268 Selections for Reading. 

lead in business. By a slow but well-sustained progress 
the effect of each step is watched; the good or ill success 
of the first gives light to us in the second; and so, from 
light to light, we are conducted with safety through the 
whole series. We see that the parts of the system do not 
clash. The evils latent in the most promising con- 
trivances are provided for as they arise. One advantage 
is as little as possible sacrificed to another. We compen- 
sate, we reconcile, we balance. We are enabled to unite 
into a consistent whole the various anomalies and con- 
tending principles that are found in the minds and 
affairs of men. From hence arises not an excellence in 
simplicity, but one far superior, an excellence in compo- 
sition. Where the great interests of mankind are con- 
cerned through a long succession of generations, that 
succession ought to be admitted into some share in the 
councils which are so deeply to affect them. If justice 
requires this, the work itself requires the aid of more 
minds than one age can furnish. It is from this view of 
things that the best legislators have been often satisfied 
with the establishment of some sure, solid, and ruling 
principle in government; a power like that which some 
of the philosophers have called a plastic nature; and 
having fixed the principle, they have left it afterward to 
its own operation. 



THE PASSIONS. 

William Collins. 

When Music, heavenly maid, was young, 
While yet in early Greece she sung, 
The Passions oft, to hear her shell, 
Thronged around her magic cell 



Selections for Reading. 269 

Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
Possessed beyond the Muse's painting; 
By turns they fe-lt the glowing mind 
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined: 
Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired, 
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired, 
From the supporting myrtles round 
They snatched her instruments of sound, 
And, as they oft had heard apart 
Sweet lessons of her forceful art, 
Each, for Madness ruled the hour, 
Would prove his own expressive power. 

First Fear his hand, its skill to try, 

Amid the chords bewildered laid, 
And back recoiled, he knew not why, 

E'en at the sound himself had made. 

Next Anger rushed, his eyes on fire, 

In lightnings owned his secret stings; 
In one rude clash he struck the lyre, 

And swept with hurried hand the strings. 

With woeful measures wan Despair — 

Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled, 
A solemn, strange, and mingled air, 

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. 

But thou, O Hope! with e}-es so fair, 

What was thy delighted measure? 
Still it whispered promised pleasure, 

And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! 
Still would her touch the strain prolong; 

And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, 
She called on Echo still through all the song; 

And, where her sweetest notes she chose, 

A soft responsive voice was heard at every 
close; 
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her 
golden hair; — 



270 Selections for Reading. 

And longer had she sung: — but with a frown, 

Revenge impatient rose: 
He threw the blood-stained sword in thunder down; 

And with a withering look 
The war-denouncing trumpet took 
And blew a blast so loud and dread^ 
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe! 

And ever and anon he beat 

The doubling drum with furious heat; 
And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between, 

Dejected Pity, at his side, 

Her soul-subduing voice applied, 
Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, 
While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting 
from his head. 

Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed: 

Sad proof of thy distressful state ! 
Of differing themes the veering song was mixed; 

And now it courted Love, now raving called on Hate. 

With eyes upraised as one inspired, 

Pale Melancholy sat retired; 
And, from her wild, sequestered seat, 
In notes, by distance made more sweet, 
Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul: 
And, dashing soft from rocks around, 
Bubbling runnels joined the sound; 
Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, 
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay. 
Round a holy calm diffusing, 
Love of peace, and lonely musing, 
In hollow murmurs died away. 

But O ! how altered was its sprightlier tone 
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, 
Her bow across her shoulder flung, 
Her buskins gemmed with morning dew, 
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung! — 
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known! 



Selections for Reading. 271 

The oak-crowned Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen, 
Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen, 
Peeping from forth their alleys green: 
Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear; 
And Sport leaped up, and seized his beechen spear. 

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial: 

He, with viny crown advancing, 
First to the lively pipe his hand addrest: 

But soon he saw the brisk, awakening viol, 

Whose sweet, entrancing voice he loved the best. 

They w T ould have thought, who heard the strain, 
They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, 
Amidst the festal-sounding shades, 

To some unwearied minstrel dancing; 

While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, 
Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round: — 
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; — 
And he, amidst his frolic play, 
As if he would the charming air repay, 

Shook thousand odors from his dewy wings. 



THE AMEEICAN SAILOR 

R F. Stockton. 

Look to your history, — that part of it which the 
world knows by heart, — and yon will find on its brightest 
page the glorious achievements of the American sailor. 
Whatever his country has done to disgrace him, and 
break his spirit, he has never disgraced her; — he has 
always been ready to serve her; he always has served her 
faithfully and effectually. He has often been weighed 
in the balance, and never found wanting. The only fault 
ever found with him is, that he sometimes fights ahead 
of his orders. The world has no match for him, man for 



272 Selections for Reading. 

man; and he asks no odds, and he cares for no odds, when 
the cause of humanity, or the glory of his country, calls 
him to fight. 

Who, in the darkest days of our Eevolution, carried 
your flag into the very chops of the British Channel, 
bearded the lion in his den, and woke the echoes of old 
Albion's hills by the thunders of his cannon, and the 
shouts of his triumph? It was the American sailor. And 
the names of John Paul Jones, and the Bon Homme 
Eichard, will go down the annals of time forever. Who 
struck the first blow that humbled the Barbary flag, — 
which, for a hundred years, had been the terror of Chris- 
tendom, — drove it from the Mediterranean, and put an 
end to the infamous tribute it had been accustomed to 
extort? It was the American sailor, and the name of 
Decatur and his gallant companions will be as lasting as 
monumental brass. 

In the year 1812, when your arms on shore were cov- 
ered by disaster, — when Winchester had been defeated, 
when the army of the Northwest had surrendered, and 
when the feeling of despondency hung like a cloud over 
the land, — who first relit the fires of national glory, and 
made the welkin ring with the shouts of victory? It 
was the American sailor. And the names of Hull and 
the Constitution will be remembered as long as we have 
left anything worth remembering. 

The wand of British invincibility was broken when the 
flag of the Guerriere came down. That one event was 
worth more to the Eepublic than all the money which 
has ever been expended for the navy. Since that day, 
the navy has had no stain upon its escutcheon, but has 
been cherished as your pride and glory. And the Ameri- 



Selections for Reading. 273 

can sailor has established a reputation throughout the 
world, — in peace and in war, in storm and in battle, — for 
heroism and prowess unsurpassed. He shrinks from no 
danger, he dreads no foe, he jdelds to no superior. Xo 
shoals are too dangerous, no seas too boisterous,, no 
climate too rigorous for him. The burning sun of the 
tropic cannot make him effeminate, nor can the eternal 
winter of the polar seas paralyze his energies. 



THE DUTY OF THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR. 
George William Curtis. 

Do you ask me our duty as scholars? Gentlemen, 
thought, which the scholar represents, is life and liberty. 
There is no intellectual or moral life without liberty. 
Therefore, as a man must breathe and see before he can 
study, the scholar must have liberty, first of all; and, 
as the American scholar is a man, and has a voice in his 
own government, so his interest in political affairs must 
precede all others. He must build his house before he 
can live in it. He must be a perpetual inspiration of 
freedom in politics. He must recognize that the intelli- 
gent exercise of political rights, which is a privilege in a 
monarchy, is a duty in a republic. If it clash with his 
ease, his retirement, his taste, his study; let it clash — but 
let him do his duty. The course of events is incessant, 
but when the good deed is slighted, the bad deed is done. 

Scholars, you would like to loiter in the pleasant paths 
of study. Every man loves his ease — loves to please his 
taste. But into how many homes, along this lovely valley, 
came the news of Lexington and Bunker Hill, eighty 



274 Selections for Heading. 

years ago; and young men like us, studious, fond of 
leisure — young lovers, young husbands, young brothers 
and sons — knew that they must forsake the wooded hill- 
side, the river meadows, golden with harvest, the twilight 
walk along the river, the summer Sunday in the old 
church, parents, wife, child, and go away to uncertain 
war. Putnam heard the call at his plow, and turned to 
go, without waiting. Wooster heard it, and obeyed. 

Not less lovely, in those days, was this peaceful valley; 
not less soft, this summer air. Life was as dear, and love 
as beautiful to those young men as it is to us who stand 
upon their graves. But, because they were so dear and 
so beautiful, those young men went out, bravely to fight 
for them and fall. Through these very streets they 
marched, who never returned. They fell, and were 
buried; but they can never die. Not sweeter are the 
flowers that make your valley fair, not greener are the 
pines that give your river its name, than the memory of 
the brave men who died for freedom. And yet no victim 
of those days, sleeping under the green sod of Connecti- 
cut, is more truly a martyr of Liberty than every mur- 
dered man whose bones lie bleaching in this summer 
sun, upon the silent plains of Kansas. 

Gentlemen, while we read history, we make history. 
Because our fathers fought in this great cause, we must 
not hope to escape fighting. Because, two thousand years 
ago, Leonidas stood against Xerxes, we must not suppose 
that Xerxes was slain, nor thank God, that Leonidas is 
not immortal. Every crisis of human history is a pass 
of Thermopylae; and there is always a Leonidas and his 
three hundred to die in it, if they cannot conquer. And, 
so long as Liberty has one martyr, so long as one drop 



Selections for Reading. 275 

of blood is poured out for her; so long, from that single 
drop of bloody sweat of the agony of humanity, shall 
spring hosts as countless as the forest leaves, and mighty 
as the sea. 

Brothers! the call has come to us. I bring it to you in 
these calm retreats. I summon you to the great fight of 
Freedom. I call upon you to say, with your voices, when- 
ever the occasion offers, and with your votes, when the 
day comes, that upon these fertile fields of Kansas, 
in the very heart of the continent, the upas-tree of 
slavery, dripping death-dews upon national prosperity 
and upon free labor, shall never be planted. I call upon 
you to plant there the palm of peace, the vine and the 
olive of a Christian civilization. I call upon you to de- 
termine whether this great experiment of human free- 
dom, which has been the scorn of despotism, shall, by its 
failure, be our sin and shame. I call upon you to defend 
the hope of the world. 

The voices of our brothers who are bleeding, no less 
than of our fathers who bled, summon us to this battle. 
Shall the children of unborn generations, clustering over 
that vast western empire, rise up and call us blessed, or 
cursed? Here are our Marathon and Lexington; here 
are our heroic fields. The hearts of all good men beat 
with us. The fight is fierce; the issue is with God. But 
God is good. 



276 Selections for Heading. 



THE BEGGAR. 

James Russell Lowell. 

A beggar through the world am I, — 
From place to place I wander by; 
Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me, 
For Christ's sweet sake and charity! 

A little of thy steadfastness, 

Hounded with leafy gracefulness, 

Old oak, give me, — 

That the world's blasts may round me blow, 

And I yield gently to and fro, 

While my stout-hearted trunk below 

And firm-set roots unmoved be. 

Some of thy stern, unyielding might 

Enduring still through day and night 

Rude tempest-shock and withering blight, — 

That I may keep at bay 

The changeful April sky of chance 

And the strong tide of circumstance, — 

Give me, old granite gray. 

Some of thy mournfulness serene, 

Some of thy never-dying green, 

Put in this scrip of mine, — 

That griefs may fall like snow-flakes light, 

And deck me in a robe of white, 

Ready to be an angel bright, — 

O sweetly-mournful pine. 

A little of thy merriment, 
Of thy sparkling, light content, 
Give me, my cheerful brook, — 
That I may still be full of glee 
And gladsomeness, where'er I be, 
Though fickle fate hath prisoned me 
In some neglected nook. 



Selections for Heading. 277 

Ye have been very kind and good 
To me, since I've been in the wood. 
Ye have gone nigh to fill my heart; 
But good-by, kind friends, every one, 
I've far to go ere set of sun; 
Of all good things I would have part, 
The day was high ere I could start, 
And so my journey's scarce begun. 

Heaven help me! how could I forget 

To beg of thee, dear violet! 

Some of thy modesty, 

That flowers here as well, unseen, 

As if before the world thou'dst been, 

O, give, to strengthen me. 



THE LOST AETS. 
Wexdell Phillips. 

We have a tender pity for the narrowness, ignorance, 
and darkness of the bygone ages. In the great proces- 
sion of the ages we seem to imagine that whether knowl- 
edge will die with us or not, it certainly began with us. 
It can be no waste of time to take our eyes for a mo- 
ment from the present civilization and guide them back 
to that earliest possible era that history describes for us. 

Take the mere subject of glass. This material, Pliny 
says, was discovered by accident. Some sailors, landing 
on the eastern coast of Spain, took their cooking utensils 
and supported them on the sand by the stones they found 
in the neighborhood; they kindled their fire, cooked the 
fish, finished their meal, removed the apparatus, and 
glass was found to have resulted from the niter and sea- 
sand vitrified by the heat. 



278 Selections for Reading. 

In every matter that relates to invention, to use, or 
beauty, or form, we are all borrowers. Yon may glance 
around the furniture of the palaces in Europe, and you 
may gather all these utensils of art or use, and when 
you have fixed the shapes and forms in your mind, I 
will take you into the Museum of Naples, which gathers 
all remains of the domestic life of the Romans, and you 
shall not find a single one of these modern forms of art or 
beauty or use that was not anticipated here. We have 
hardly added one single line or sweep of beauty to the 
antique. 

Some of Shakspere's plays are historical. The rest 
— two-thirds of them — were clutched, ready-made to his 
hand, from the Italian novelists, who had taken 
them before from the East. Cinderella and her slipper 
is older than all history, like half a dozen other legends. 
The annals of the world do not go back far enough to 
tell us from where they first came. All the boys' plays 
are Asiatic; they came somewhere from the banks of the 
Ganges or the suburbs of Damascus. Bulwer borrowed 
the incidents of his Roman stories from legends of a 
thousand years before. 

Cicero said that he had seen the entire Iliad, which is 
a poem as large as the New Testament, written on skin 
so that it could be rolled up in the compass of a nut- 
shell. You have seen the Declaration of Independence 
in the compass of a quarter of a dollar. I have to-day 
a paper at home half as long as my hand, on which was 
photographed the whole contents of a London newspa- 
per. It was put under a clove's wing and sent into Paris, 
where they enlarged it and read the news. No man was 
ever shown into the cabinets of gems in Italy without 



Selections for Beading. 279 

being furnished with a microscope to look at them. It 
would have been idle for him to have looked at them 
without one, for he could not have appreciated the deli- 
cate lines or the expression of the faces. If you go to 
Parma they will show you a gem once worn on the finger 
of Michael Angelo, of which the engraving is two thou- 
sand years old, and can be distinguished only by the aid 
of a glass. The microscope, instead of dating from our 
time, dates from the time of Moses. 

Pompeii was a city of stucco. It has been buried 
seventeen hundred years, and if you take a shovel now 
and clear away the ashes, this color flames up upon you 
a great deal richer than any we can produce. 

AVe have only just begun to understand ventilation 
properly for our houses; yet late experiments in the Pyra- 
mids of Egypt show that those Egyptian tombs were ven- 
tilated in the most perfect and scientific manner. Cement 
is modern, for the ancients dressed and jointed their 
stones so closely that in buildings thousands of years old 
the thin blade of a pen-knife cannot be forced between 
them. The railroad dates back to Egypt. Arago has 
claimed that they had a knowledge of steam. Solomon's 
Temple was situated on an exposed part of a hill; the 
building was so lofty that it was often in peril, and was 
guarded by a system of lightning rods exactly like Benja- 
min Franklin's. 

The principle that governs this land is the one that 
should govern every land; it is the one which this nation 
needs to practice every day; it is the divine will that 
every man has the right to know everything which will 
be serviceable to himself and his fellow-man, and that 
will make art immortal, if God means that it shall last. 



280 Selections for Reading. 



SCIENTIFIC EDUCATION*. 
Thomas Huxley. 

I hope you will consider that the arguments I have 
now stated, even if there were no better ones, constitute 
a sufficient apology for urging the introduction of science 
into schools. The next question to which I have to ad- 
dress myself is, What sciences ought to be thus taught? 
And this is one of the most important of questions. 
There are other forms of culture besides physical science; 
and I should be profoundly sorry to see the fact forgot- 
ten, or even to observe a tendency to starve or cripple 
literary or sesthetic culture for the sake of science. Such 
a narrow view of the nature of education has nothing 
to do with my firm conviction that a complete and 
thorough scientific culture ought to be introduced into 
all schools. By this, however, I do not mean that every 
schoolboy should be taught everything in science. That 
would be a very absurd thing to conceive, and a very 
mischievous thing to attempt. What I mean is, that no 
boy or girl should leave school without possessing a grasp 
of the general character of science, and without having 
been disciplined, more or less, in the methods of all 
sciences; so that, when turned into the world to make 
their own way, they shall be prepared to face scientific 
problems, not by knowing at once the conditions of every 
problem, or by being able at once to solve it, but by 
being familiar with the general current of scientific 
thought, and by being able to apply the methods of science 
in the proper way, when they have acquainted themselves 
with the conditions of the special problem. 



Selections for Heading. 281 

That is what I understand by scientific education. To 
furnish a boy with such an education, it is by no means 
necessary that he should devote his whole school existence 
to physical science; in fact, no one would lament so one- 
sided a proceeding more than I. Nay, more, it is not 
necessary for him to give up more than a moderate share 
of his time to such studies, if they be properly selected 
and arranged, and if he be trained in them in a fitting 
manner. 

I conceive the proper course to be somewhat as follows: 
To begin with, let every child be instructed in those 
general views of the phenomena of nature for which we 
have no exact English name. The nearest approximation 
to a name for what I mean, which we possess, is " physi- 
cal geography " ; that is to say, a general knowledge of 
the earth, and what is on it, in it, and about it. If any- 
one who has had experience of the ways of young chil- 
dren will call to mind their questions, he will find that, 
so far as they can be put into any scientific category, 
they come under this head. The child asks, " What is 
the moon, and why does it shine? " " What is the water, 
and where does it run? " " What is the wind? " " What 
makes the waves in the sea?" " Where does this animal 
live, and what is the use of that plant?" And if not 
snubbed and stunted by being told not to ask foolish 
questions, there is no limit to the intellectual craving of 
a young child, nor any bounds to the slow but solid accre- 
tion of knowledge and development of the thinking 
faculty in this way. To all such questions answers which 
are necessarily incomplete, though true as far as they 
go, may be given by any teacher whose ideas represent' 
real knowledge, and not mere book learning; and a 



282 Selections for Reading, 

panoramic view of nature, accompanied by a strong in- 
fusion of the scientific habit of mind, may thus be placed 
within the reach of every child of nine or ten. 

After this preliminary opening of the eyes to the great 
spectacle of the daily progress of nature, as the reasoning 
faculties of the child grow, and he becomes familiar with 
the use of the tools of knowledge, — reading, writing, and 
elementary mathematics, — he should pass on to what is, 
in the more strict sense, physical science. Now, there 
are two kinds of physical science. The one regards form 
and the relation of forms to one another; the other deals 
with causes and effects. In many of what we term our 
sciences, these two kinds are mixed up together; but 
systematic botany is a pure example of the former kind, 
and physics of the latter kind, of science. Every educa- 
tional advantage which training in physical science can 
give is obtainable from the proper study of these two; 
and I should be contented for the present if they, added 
to physical geography, furnished the whole of the scien- 
tific curriculum of schools. Indeed, I conceive it would 
be one of the greatest boons which could be conferred 
upon the country, if henceforward every child in the coun- 
try were instructed in the general knowledge of the things 
about it, in the elements of physics and of botany; but 
I should be still better pleased if there could be added 
somewhat of chemistry, and an elementary acquaintance 
with human physiology. 

So far as school education is concerned, I want to go 
no further just now; and I believe that such instruction 
would make an excellent introduction to that preparatory 
scientific training which, as I have indicated, is so essen- 
tial for the successful pursuit of our most important 



Selections for Reading. 283 

professions. But this modicum of instruction must be 
so given as to insure real knowledge and practical dis- 
cipline. If scientific education is to be dealt with as 
mere book-work, it will be better not to attempt it, but 
to stick to the Latin Grammar, which makes no pretense 
to be anything but book-work. 

If the great benefits of scientific training are sought, 
it is essential that such training should be real; that is 
to say, that the mind of the scholar should be brought 
into direct relation with fact, that he should not merely 
be told a thing, but made to see by the use of his own in- 
tellect and ability that the thing is so and no otherwise. 
The great peculiarity of scientific training, that in 
virtue of which it cannot be replaced by any other dis- 
cipline whatsoever, is this bringing of the mind directly 
into contact with fact, and practicing the intellect in the 
completest form of induction; that is to say, in drawing 
conclusions from particular facts made known by imme- 
diate observation of nature. 

The other studies which enter into ordinary education 
do not discipline the mind in this way. Mathematical 
training is almost purely deductive. The mathematician 
starts with a few simple propositions, the proof of which 
is so obvious that they are called self-evident, and the 
rest of his work consists of subtile deductions from them. 
The teaching of languages, at any rate as ordinarily prac- 
ticed, is of the same general nature, — authority and tra- 
dition furnished the data, and the mental operations of 
the scholar are deductive. 

Again, if history be the subject of study, the facts are 
still taken upon the evidence of tradition and authority. 
You cannot make the boy see the battle of Thermopylae 



284 Selections for Reading. 

for himself, or know, of his own knowledge, that Crom- 
well once ruled England. There is no getting into direct 
contact with natural fact by this road; there is no dis- 
pensing with authority, but rather a resting upon it. 

In all these respects science differs from other educa- 
tional discipline, and prepares the scholar for common 
life. What have we to do in everyday life? Most of the 
business which demands our attention is matter of fact, 
which needs, in the first place, to be accurately observed 
or apprehended; in the second, to be interpreted by in- 
ductive and deductive reasonings, which are altogether 
similar in their nature to those employed in science. In 
the one case, as in the other, whatever is taken for 
granted is so taken at one's own peril. Fact and reason 
are the ultimate arbiters, and patience and honesty are 
the great helpers out of difficulty. 

But if scientific training is to yield its most eminent 
results, it must, I repeat, be made practical. That is to 
say, in explaining to a child the general phenomena of 
nature, you must, as far as possible, give reality to your 
teaching by object-lessons. In teaching him botany, 
he must handle the plants and dissect the flowers for 
himself; in teaching him physics and chemistry, you must 
not be solicitous to fill him with information, but you 
must be careful that what he learns he knows of his own 
knowledge. Don't be satisfied with telling him that a 
magnet attracts iron. Let him see that it does; let him 
feel the pull of the one upon the other for himself. And, 
especially, tell him that it is his duty to doubt, until he 
is compelled by the absolute authority of nature to be- 
lieve, that which is written in books. Pursue this 
discipline carefully and conscientiously, and you may 



Selections for Reading. 285 

make sure that, however scanty may be the measure of 
information which you have poured into the boy's mind, 
you have created an intellectual habit of priceless value 
in practical life. 

One is constantly asked, When should this scientific 
education be commenced? I should say with the dawn of 
intelligence. As I have already said, a child seeks for 
information about matters of physical science as soon as 
it begins to talk. The first teaching it wants is an object- 
lesson of one sort or another; and as soon as it is fit for 
systematic instruction of any kind, it is fit for a modicum 
of science. 

People talk of the difficulty of teaching young children 
such matters, and in the same breath insist upon their 
learning their Catechism, which contains propositions far 
harder to comprehend than anything in the educational 
course I have proposed. Again, I am incessantly told 
that we who advocate the introduction of science into 
schools make no allowance for the stupidity of the aver- 
age boy or girl; but, in my belief, that stupidity, in nine 
cases out of ten, is unnatural, and is developed by a long 
process of parental and pedagogic repression of the 
natural intellectual appetites, accompanied by a per- 
sistent attempt to create artificial ones for food which is 
not only tasteless, but essentially indigestible. 

Those who urge the difficulty of instructing young peo- 
ple in science are apt to forget another very important 
condition of success; important in all kinds of teaching, 
but most essential, I am disposed to think, when the 
scholars are very young. This condition is, that the 
teacher should himself really and practically know his 
subject. If he does, he will be able to speak of it in the 



286 Selections for Heading. 

easy language, and with the completeness of conviction, 
with which he talks of any ordinary everyday matter. If 
he does not, he will be afraid to wander beyond the limits 
of the technical phraseology which he has got up; and a 
dead dogmatism, which oppresses or raises opposition, 
will take the place of the lively confidence, born of per- 
sonal conviction, which cheers and encourages the emi- 
nently sympathetic mind of childhood. 

At the period of the Eenascence, the few and scattered 
students of Nature picked up the clew to her secrets 
exactly as it fell from the hands of the Greeks a thousand 
years before. The foundations of mathematics were so 
well laid by them that our children learn their geometry 
from a book written for the schools of Alexandria two 
thousand years ago. Modern astronomy is the natural 
continuation and development of the work of Hipparchus 
and of Ptolemy; modern physics of that of Democritus 
and of Archimedes. 

We cannot know all the best thoughts and sayings of 
the Greeks unless we know what they thought about 
natural phenomena. We falsely pretend to be the in- 
heritors of their culture, unless we are penetrated, as the 
best minds among them were, with an unhesitating faith 
that the free employment of reason, in accordance with 
scientific method, is the sole method of reaching truth. 



Selections for Heading. 287 



WORDS ON LANGUAGE. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

Some words on language may be well applied, 
And take them kindly, though they touch your pride; 
Words lead to things; a scale is more precise, — 
Coarse speech, bad grammar, swearing, drinking, vice. 

Our cold northeaster's icy fetter clips 
The native freedom of the Saxon lips; 
Seethe brown peasant of the plastic south, 
How all his passions play about his mouth! 
With us, the feature that transmits the soul, 
A frozen, passive, palsied breathing-hole. 

The crampy shackles of the plowboy's walk 

Tie the small muscles when he strives to talk; 

Not all the pumice of the polished town 

Can smooth this roughness of the barnyard down; 

Rich, honored, titled, he betrays his race 

By this one mark, — he's awkward in the face; — 

Nature's rude impress, long before he knew 

The sunny street that holds the sifted few. 

It can't be helped, though, if we're taken young, 
We gain some freedom of the lips and tongue; 
But school and college often try in vain 
To break the padlock of our boyhood's chain; 
One stubborn word will prove this axiom true; — - 
No quondam rustic can enunciate view. 

A few brief stanzas may be well employed 
To speak of errors we can all avoid. 
Learning condemns beyond the reach of hope 
The careless churl who speaks of soap for soap; 
Her edict exiles from her fair abode 
The clownish voice that utters road for road; 
Less stern to him who calls his coat a coat, 
And steers his boat, believing it a boat. 



288 Selections for Heading. 

She pardoned one, our classic city's boast, 
Who said, at Cambridge, most instead of most; 
But knit her brows, and stamp'd her angry foot, 
To hear a teacher call a root a root. 

Once more; speak clearly, if you speak at all; 

Carve every word before you let it fall; 

Don't, like a lecturer or dramatic star, 

Try over-hard to roll the British R; 

Do put your accents in the proper spot; 

Don't — let me beg you — don't say " How? " for " What?" 

And, when you stick on conversation's burs, 

Don't strew the pathway with those dreadful urs. 



THE STATUE. 



In Athens, when all learning centered there, 
Men reared a column of surpassing height 

In honor of Minerva, wise and fair, 

And on the top, that dwindled to the sight, 

A statue of the goddess was to stand, 

That wisdom might obtain in all the land. 

And he who, with the beauty in his heart, 
Seeking in faultless work immortal youth, 

Would mold this statue with the finest art, 
Making the wintry marble glow with truth, 

Should gain the prize. Two sculptors sought the fame; 

The prize they craved was an enduring name. 

Alcamenes soon carved his ver}^ best; 

But Phidias, beneath a dazzling thought 
That like a bright sun in a cloudless west 

Lit up his wide, great soul, with pure love wrought 
A statue, and its face of changeless stone 
With calm, far-sighted wisdom towered and shone. 

Then to be judged the labors were unveiled, 
But at the marble thought, that by degrees 



Selections for Reading, 289 

Of hardship Phidias cut, the people railed, 

" The lines are coarse; the form too large," said these, 
" And he who sends this rough result of haste 
Sends scorn, and offers insult to our taste." 

Alcamenes' praised work was lifted high 

Upon the capital where it might stand; 
But there it seemed too small, and 'gainst the sky 

Had no proportion from the uplooking land, 
So it was lowered, and quickly put aside, 
And the second one was mounted to be tried. 

Surprise swept o'er the faces of the crowd, 

And changed them as a sudden breeze may change 

A field of fickle grass, and long and loud 

Their mingled shouts, to see a sight so strange. 

The statue stood completed in its place, 

Each coarse line melted to a line of grace. 

So bold, great actions that are seen too near, 
Look rash and foolish to unthinking eyes; 

They need the past for distance, to appear, 
In their true grandeur. Let us yet be wise, 

And not too soon our neighbor's deed malign, 

For what seems coarse is often good and fine. 



THE FUTUEE OF AMEEICA. 

Daniel Webster. 

Fellow-citizexs, the hours of this day are rapidly 
flying, and this occasion will soon be passed. Neither 
we nor our children can expect to behold its return. They 
are in the distant regions of futurity, they exist only 
in the all-creating poAver of God, who shall stand here, a 
hundred years hence, to trace, through us, their descent 



290 Selections for Reading. 

from the Pilgrims, and to survey, as we have now sur- 
veyed, the progress of their country during the lapse of 
a century. We would anticipate their concurrence with 
us in our sentiments of deep regard for our common 
ancestors. We would anticipate and partake the pleasure 
with which they will then recount the steps of New 
England's advancement. On the morning of that day, 
although it will not disturb us in our repose, the voice 
of acclamation and gratitude, commencing on the rock 
of Plymouth, shall be transmitted through millions of 
the sons of the Pilgrims, till it lose itself in the murmurs 
of the Pacific seas. We would leave, for the considera- 
tion of those who shall then occupy our places, some 
proof that we hold the blessings transmitted from our 
fathers in just estimation; some proof of our attachment 
to the cause of good government, and of civil and re- 
ligious liberty; some proof of a sincere and ardent desire 
to promote everything which may enlarge the under- 
standings, and improve the hearts of men. And when, 
from the long distance of a hundred years, they shall 
look back upon us, they shall know, at least, that we 
possessed affections, which, running backward and warm- 
ing with gratitude for what our ancestors have done for 
our happiness, run forward also to our posterity, and 
meet them with cordial salutation, ere yet they have 
arrived on the shore of being. 

Advance, then, ye future generations! We would hail 
you, as you rise in your long succession, to fill the places 
which we now fill, and to taste the blessings of existence, 
where we are passing, and soon shall have passed, our 
human duration. We bid you welcome to the healthful 
skies and the verdant fields of New England. We greet 



Selections for Reading. 291 

your accession to the great inheritance which we have 
enjoyed. We welcome yon to the blessings of good 
government and religions liberty. We welcome you to 
the treasures of science, and the delights of learning. 
We welcome you to the transcendent sweets of domestic 
life, to the happiness of kindred, and parents, and chil- 
dren. TTe welcome you to the immeasurable blessings 
or rational existence, the immortal hope of Christianity, 
and the light of everlasting truth. 



SIR GALAHAD. 

Alfred Texxysox. 



My good blade carves the casques of men, 

My tough lance thrusteth sure; 
My strength is as the strength of ten, 

Because iny heart is pure. 
The shattering trumpet shrill eth high, 

The hard brands shiver on the steel, 
The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly, 

The horse and rider reel. 
They reel, they roll in clanging lists, 

And when the tide of combat stands, 
Perfume and flowers fall in showers, 

That lightly rain from ladies' hands. 

How sweet are looks that ladies bend 

On whom their favors fall! 
For them I battle till the end, 

To save from shame and thrall; 
But all my heart is drawn above, 

My knees are bowed in crypt and shrine: 
I never felt the kiss of love, 

Nor maiden's hand in mine. 



292 Selections for Reading. 



More bounteous aspects on me beam, 
Me mightier transports move and thrill, 

So keep I fair through faith and prayer 
A virgin heart in work and will. 

When down the stormy crescent goes, 

A light before me swims, 
Between dark stems the forest glows, 

I hear a voice of hymns; 
Then by some secret shrine I ride; 

I hear a voice, but none are there; 
The stalls are void, the doors are wide, 

The tapers burning fair. 
Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, 

The silver vessels sparkle clean, 
The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, 

And solemn chants resound between. 

Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres 

I find a magic bark; 
I leap on board; no helmsman steers; 

I float till all is dark. 
A gentle sound, an awful light! 

Three angels bear the holy Grail; 
With folded feet, in stoles of white, 

On sleeping wings they sail. 
Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! 

My spirit beats her mortal bars, 
As down dark tides the glory slides, 

And star-like mingles with the stars. 

When on my goodly charger borne, 

Through dreaming towns I go, 
The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, 

The streets are dumb with snow. 
The tempest crackles on the leads, 

And, ringing, spins from brand and mail, 
But o'er the dark a glory spreads, 

And gilds the driving hail— 



Selections for Reading. 293 

I leave the plain, I climb the height, 

No branchy thicket shelter yields; 
But blessed forms in whistling storms, 

Fly o'er waste fens and wiodj^ fields. 

A maiden knight, to me is given 

Such hope, I know not fear; 
I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 

That often meet me here. 
I muse on joy that will not cease, 

Pure spaces clothed in living beams; 
Pure lilies of eternal peace, 

Whose odors haunt my dreams; 
And, stricken by an angel's hand, 

This mortal armor that I wear, 
This weight and size, this heart and eyes, 

Are touched, are turned to finest air. 

The clouds are broken in the sky, 

And through the mountain-walls 
A rolling organ-harmony 

Swells up, and shakes and falls. 
Then move the trees, the copses nod, 

Wings flutter, voices hover clear; 
" O just and faithful knight of God! 

Ride on! the prize is near." 
So pass I hostel, hall, and grange; 

By bridge and ford, by park and pale 
All-armed I ride, whate'er betide, 

Until I find the holy Grail. 



NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 

Napoleon understood his business. Here was a man 
who in each moment and emergency knew what to do 
next. It is an immense comfort and refreshment to the 
spirits, not only of kings, but of citizens. Few men have 



294 Selections for Reading. 

any next; they live from hand to mouth, without plan, 
and are ever at the end of their line, and, after each 
action, wait for an impulse from abroad. Napoleon had 
been the first man of the world, if his ends had been 
purely public. As he is, he inspires confidence and vigor 
by the extraordinary unity of his action. 

He is firm, sure, self-denying, self-postponing, sacri- 
ficing everything to his aim, — money, troops, generals, 
and his own safety also; not misled, like common adven- 
turers, by the splendor of his own means. " Incidents 
ought not to govern policy," he said, "but policy inci- 
dents." " To be hurried away by every event, is to have 
no political system at all." His victories were only so 
many doors, and he never for a moment lost sight of his 
way onward in the dazzle and uproar of the present cir- 
cumstance. He knew what to do, and he flew to his 
mark. 

He would shorten a straight line to come at his object. 
Horrible anecdotes may, no doubt, be collected from his 
history, of the price at which he bought his successes; 
but he must not, therefore, be set down as cruel, but only 
as one who knew no impediment to his will: not blood- 
thirsty, not cruel; but woe to what thing or person stood 
in his way! " Sire, General Clarke cannot combine with 
General Junot for the dreadful fire of the Austrian bat- 
tery." " Let him carry the battery." " Sire, every regi- 
ment that approaches the heavy artillery is sacrificed. 
Sire, what orders? " " Forward! forward! " 

In the plenitude of his resources every obstacle seemed 
to vanish. " There shall be no Alps," he said; and he 
built his perfect roads, climbing by graded galleries their 
steepest precipices, until Italy was as open to Paris as 



Selections for Beading. 295 

any town in France. Having decided what was to be 
done, he did that with might and main. He put out all 
his strength. He risked everything, and spared nothing — 
neither ammunition, nor money, nor troops, nor generals, 
nor himself. If fighting be the best mode of adjusting 
national differences (as large majorities of men seem to 
agree), certainly Bonaparte was right in making it 
thorough. 

" The grand principle of war," he said, " was, that an 
army ought always to be ready, by day and by night, and 
at all hours, to make all the resistance it is capable of 
making." He never economized his ammunition, but on 
a hostile position rained a torrent of iron, — shells, balls, 
grape-shot, — to annihilate all defense. He went to the 
edge of his possibility, so heartily was he bent on his 
object. It is plain that in Italy he did what he could, 
and all that he could; he came several times within an inch 
of ruin, and his own person was all but lost. He was 
flung into the marsh at Areola. The Austrians were be- 
tween him and his troops in the confusion of the struggle, 
and he was brought off with desperate efforts. At Lonato 
and at other places he was on the point of being taken 
prisoner. 

He fought sixty battles. He had never enough. Each 
victory was a new weapon. " My power would fall, were 
I not to support it by new achievements. Conquest has 
made me what I am, and conquest must maintain me." 
He felt, with every wise man, that as much life is needed 
for conservation as for creation. We are always in peril, 
always in a bad plight, just on the edge of destruction, 
and only to be saved by invention and courage. This 
vigor was guarded and tempered by the coldest prudence 



296 Selections for Reading. 

and punctuality. A thunderbolt in the attack, he was 
found invulnerable in his intrenchments. His very at- 
tack was never the inspiration of courage, but the result 
of calculation. His idea of the best defense consisted 
in being always the attacking party. " My ambition," he 
says, " was great, but was of a cold nature." 

Everything depended on the nicety of his combina- 
tions: the stars were not more punctual than his arithme- 
tic* His personal attention descended to the smallest 
particulars. " At Montebello I ordered Kellermann to 
attack with eight hundred horse; and with these he 
separated the six thousand Hungarian grenadiers before 
the very eyes of the Austrian cavalry. This cavalry was 
half a league off, and required a quarter of an hour to 
arrive on the field of action; and I have observed it is 
always these quarters of an hour that decide the fate of a 
battle." 

Before he fought a battle Bonaparte thought little 
about what he should do in case of success, but a great 
deal about what he should do in case of a reverse of 
fortune. The same prudence and good sense marked all 
his behavior. His instructions to his secretary at the 
palace are worth remembering: " During the night, enter 
my chamber as seldom as possible. Do not awake me 
when you have any good news to communicate; with that 
there is no hurry; but when you bring bad news, rouse 
me instantly, for then there is not a moment to be lost." 
His achievement of business was immense, and enlarges 
the known powers of man. There have been many work- 
ing kings, from Ulysses to William of Orange, but none 
who accomplished a tithe of this man's performance. 

To these gifts of nature Napoleon added the advantage 



Selections for Heading. 297 

of having been born to a private and humble fortune. 
In his later days he had the weakness of wishing to add 
to his crowns and badges the prescription of aristocracy; 
but he knew his debt to his austere education, and made 
no secret of his contempt for the born kings, and for 
" the hereditary donkeys," as he coarsely styled the Bour- 
bons. He said that, in their exile, " they had learned 
nothing, and forgot nothing." Bonaparte had passed 
through all the degrees of military service; but, also, 
was citizen before he was emperor, and so had the key to 
citizenship. His remarks and estimates discovered the 
information and justness of measurement of the middle 
class. 

Those who had to deal with him found that he was not 
to be imposed upon, but could cipher as well as another 
man. When the expenses of the empress, of his house- 
hold, of his palaces, had accumulated great debts, Na- 
poleon examined the bills of the creditors himself, 
detected overcharges and errors, and reduced the claims 
by considerable sums. His grand weapon, namely, the 
millions whom he directed, he owed to the representative 
character which clothed him. He interests us as he 
stands for France and for Europe; and he exists as cap- 
tain and king only as far as the Eevolution or the in- 
terests of the industrious masses found an organ and a 
leader in him. 

In the social interests he knew the meaning and value 
of labor, and threw himself naturally on that side. The 
principal works that have survived him are his magnifi- 
cent roads. He filled his troops with his spirit, and a 
sort of freedom and companionship grew up between him 
and them, which the forms of his court never permitted 



298 Selections for Reading. 

between the officers and himself. They performed under 
his eye that which no others could do. The best docu- 
ment of his relation to his troops is the order of the day 
on the morning of the battle of Austerlitz, in which 
Napoleon promises the troops that he will keep his person 
out of reach of fire. This declaration, which is the re- 
verse of that ordinarily made by generals and sovereigns 
on the eve of a battle, sufficiently explains the devotion 
of the army to their leader. 



THE PUEITANS. 



We would speak of the Puritans, the most remarka- 
ble body of men, perhaps, which the world has ever pro- 
duced. The odious and ridiculous parts of their char- 
acter lie on the surface. He that runs may read them; nor 
have there been wanting attentive and malicious observers 
to point them out. For many years after the Kestora- 
tion, they were the theme of unmeasured invective and 
derision. They were exposed to the utmost licentious- 
ness of the press and of the-stage, at the time when the 
press and the stage were most licentious. They were not 
men of letters; they were, as a body, unpopular; they 
could not defend themselves; and the public would not 
take them under its protection. They were, therefore, 
abandoned, without reserve, to the tender mercies of the 
satirists and dramatists. The ostentatious simplicity of 
their dress, their sour aspect, their nasal twang, their 
stiff posture, their long graces, their Hebrew names, the 
Scriptural phrases which they introduced on every oc- 
casion, their contempt of human learning, their detesta- 



Selections for Reading, 299 

tion of polite amusements, were indeed fair game for the 
laughers. But it is not from the laughers alone that the 
philosophy of history is to be learnt. And he who ap- 
proaches this subject should carefully guard against the 
influence of that potent ridicule which has already misled 
so many excellent writers. 

Those who roused the people to resistance, who di- 
rected their measures through a long series of eventful 
years, who formed, out of the most unpromising ma- 
terials, the finest army that Europe had ever seen, who 
trampled down King, Church, and Aristocracy, who, in 
the short intervals of domestic sedition and rebellion, 
made the name of England terrible to every nation on 
the face of the earth, were no vulgar fanatics. Most of 
their absurdities were mere external badges, like the signs 
of free-masonry or the dresses of friars. We regret that 
these badges were not more attractive. We regret that a 
body to whose courage and talents mankind has owed 
inestimable obligations had not the lofty elegance which 
distinguished some of the adherents of Charles the Eirst, 
or the easy good-breeding for which the court of Charles 
the Second was celebrated. But, if we must make our 
choice, we shall, like Bassanio in the play, turn from 
the specious caskets which contain only the Death's head 
an.d the Fool's head, and fix on the plain leaden chest 
which conceals the treasure. 

The Puritans were men whose minds had derived a 
peculiar character from the daily contemplation of supe- 
rior beings and eternal interests. Xot content with ac- 
knowledging, in general terms, an overruling Providence, 
they habitually ascribed every event to the will of the 
Great Being for whose power nothing was too vast, for 



300 Selections for Reading. 

whose inspection nothing was too minute. To know 
him, to serve him, to enjoy him, was with them 
the great end of existence. They rejected with con- 
tempt the ceremonious homage which other sects sub- 
stituted for the pure worship of the soul. Instead 
of catching occasional glimpses of the Deity through an 
obscuring veil, they aspired to gaze full on his intolerable 
brightness, and to commune with him face to face. 
Hence originated their contempt for terrestrial distinc- 
tions. The difference between the greatest and the 
meanest of mankind seemed to vanish, when compared 
with the boundless interval which separated the whole 
race from him on whom their own eyes were constantly 
fixed. They recognized no title to superiority but his 
favor; and, confident of that favor, they depised all the 
accomplishments and all the dignities of the world. If 
they were unacquainted with the works of philosophers 
and poets, they were deeply read in the oracles of God. 
If their names were not found in the registers of heralds, 
they were recorded in the Book of Life. If their steps 
were not accompanied by a splendid train of menials, 
legions of ministering angels had charge of them. 

Their palaces were houses not made with hands; their 
diadems crowns of glory which should never fade away. 
On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles and priests, they 
looked down with contempt; for they esteemed themselves 
rich in a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a more 
sublime language, nobles by the right of an earlier crea- 
tion, and priests by the imposition of a mightier hand. 
The very meanest of them was a being to whose fate a 
mysterious and terrible importance belonged, on whose 
slightest action the spirits of light and darkness looked 



Selections for Reading. 301 

with anxious interest, who had been destined, before 
heaven and earth were created, to enjoy a felicity which 
should continue when heaven and earth should have 
passed away. Events which short-sighted politicians 
ascribed to earthly causes, had been ordained on his ac- 
count. For his sake empires had risen, and flourished, 
and decayed. For his sake the Almighty had proclaimed 
his will by the pen of the evangelist and the harp of the 
prophet. He had been wrested by no common deliverer 
from the grasp of no common foe. He had been ran- 
somed by the sweat of no vulgar agony, by the blood of 
no earthly sacrifice. It was for him that the sun had 
been darkened, that the rocks had been rent, that the 
dead had risen, that all nature had shuddered at the 
sufferings of her expiring God. 

Thus the Puritan was made up of two different men — 
the one all self-abasement, penitence, gratitude, passion; 
the other proud, calm, inflexible, sagacious. He pros- 
trated himself in the dust before his Maker; but he set 
his foot on the neck of his king. In his devotional re- 
tirement he prayed with convulsions and groans and 
tears. He was half-maddened by glorious or terrible 
illusions. He heard the lyres of angels or the tempting 
whispers of fiends. He caught a gleam of the Beatific 
Vision, or woke screaming from dreams of everlasting 
fire. Like Vane, he thought himself intrusted with the 
scepter of the millennial year. Like Fleetwood, he cried 
in the bitterness of his soul that God had hid his face 
from him. But when he took his seat in the council, or 
girt on his sword for war, these tempestuous workings 
of the soul had left no perceptible trace behind them. 
People who saw nothing of the godly but their uncouth 



302 Selections for Reading. 

visages, and heard nothing from them but their groans 
and their whining hymns, might laugh at them. But 
those had little reason to laugh who encountered them 
in the hall of debate or in the field of battle. 

These fanatics brought to civil and military affairs a 
coolness of judgment and an immutability of purpose 
which some writers have thought inconsistent with their 
religious zeal, but which were in fact the necessary effects 
of it. The intensity of their feelings on one subject 
made them tranquil on every other. One overpowering 
sentiment had subjected to itself pity and hatred, ambi- 
tion and fear. Death had lost its terrors, and pleasure 
its charms. They had their smiles and their tears, their 
raptures and their sorrows, but not for the things of this 
world. Enthusiasm had made them Stoics, had cleared 
their minds from every vulgar passion and prejudice, 
and raised them above the influence of danger and of 
corruption. It sometimes might lead them to pursue un- 
wise ends, but never to choose unwise means. They went 
through the world, like Sir Artegal's iron man Talus 
with his flail, crushing and trampling down oppressors, 
mingling with human beings, but having neither part 
nor lot in human infirmities, insensible to fatigue, to 
pleasure, and to pain, not to be pierced by any weapon, 
not to be withstood by any barrier. 



Selections for Beading. 303 



THE BUILDERS. 

Henry W. Longfellow. 

All are architects of Fate, 
Working in these walls of Time; 

Some with massive deeds and great, 
Some with ornaments of rhyme. 

Nothing useless is, or low; 

Each thing in its place is best; 
And what seems but idle show 

Strengthens and supports the rest. 

For the structure that we raise, 
Time is with materials filled; 

Our to-days and yesterdays 
Are the blocks with which we build. 

Truly shape and fashion these ; 

Leave no yawning gaps between; 
Think not because no man sees, 

Such things will remain unseen. 

In the elder days of Art, 

Builders wrought with greatest care 
Each minute and unseen part; 

For the gods see everywhere. 

Let us do our work as well, 
Both the unseen and the seen; 

Make the house where gods may dwell, 
Beautiful, entire, and clean. 

Else our lives are incomplete, 
Standing in these walls of Time, 

Broken stairways, where the feet 
Stumble as they seek to climb. 

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 
With a firm and ample base; 

And ascending and secure 
Shall to-morrow find its place. 



304 Selections for Reading. 

Thus alone can we attain 
To those turrets, where the eye 

Sees the world as one vast plain, 
And one boundless reach of sky. 



THE TOWN-PITMP. 
Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

I hold high office in the town, being guardian of the 
best treasure it has; and I exhibit, moreover, an ad- 
mirable example to the other officials, by the cool and 
downright discharge of my business, and the constancy 
with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter, 
nobody seeks me in vain; for all day long I am seen at 
the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out 
my arms to rich and poor. 

At this sultry noontide I am cupbearer to the parched 
populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to 
my waist. To all and sundry I cry aloud, at the very top 
of my voice: " Here it is, gentlemen! here is the good 
liquor! here is the unadulterated ale of Father Adam! 
better than brandy, wine, or beer; here it is, and not a 
cent to pay. Walk up, walk up, gentlemen, and help 
yourselves! " 

It were a pity if all this outcry should draw no cus- 
tomers. Here they come. " A hot day, gentlemen! 
Quaff and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice 
cool sweat. You, my friend! will need another cupful 
to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there 
as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that you have 
trudged half a score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, 



Selections for Beading. 305 

have passed by the taverns and stopped at the running 
brooks and bubbling springs. Drink, and make room for 
that other fellow who seeks my aid to quench the fever 
of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup 
of mine. 

"Welcome, most rubicund sir! You and I have been 
great strangers hitherto! But mercy on you, man! The 
water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet. Fill 
again, and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did 
you ever, in tavern or dram-shop, spend the price of your 
children's food for a swig half so delicious! 

"Who next? my little friend! you are just let 
loose from school, and are come here to scrub your 
blooming face, and drown the memory of certain taps 
of the rod by a draught from the Town-Pump. Take it, 
pure as the current of your young life; take it, and may 
your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer 
thirst than now! 

" There, my dear child! put down the cup, and yield 
your place to this elderly gentleman who treads so 
gingerly over the paving-stones. What! he limps by, 
without so much as thanking me, as if my hospitable 
offices were meant only for people who have no wine 
cellars. 

"Well, well, sir! no harm done, I hope? Go! draw the 
cork, tip the decanter; but when your great toe shall 
set you .a roaring, it will be no affair of mine. 

" This thirsty dog, with his red tongue lolling out, 
does not scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind 
legs, and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly 
he capers away again! Jowler! did your worship ever 
have the gout?" 



306 Selections for Reading. 



THE BEEATH OP LIFE. 
Caroline B. Le Row. 

We are told that "God made man upright, but he hag 
found out many inventions." Though evidently intended 
in a moral sense, it is no less true in a physical one, and its 
truth is especially significant to the student of anatomy and 
physiology. For one "upright" man or woman, are to be 
found scores of round shoulders, protruding shoulder-blades, 
sunken chests, distorted ribs, bow legs, crooked spines, 
cramped toes and fingers. Man has found out many in- 
ventions of sitting, walking, dressing, working, sleeping, in 
the most unnatural positions of body, and owing to his 
strange and unaccountable tendency to the wrong when the 
right would better serve his purpose, these are persisted in 
even when proved fatal to comfort and health. Down 
through generations are handed the bodily deformities 
which hamper and disfigure the race, but all speculation as 
to the cause of so much weakness, helplessness and ugliness 
becomes needless when we reflect that these were not parts 
of the original plan, for " God made man upright," although 
he has since "found out many inventions." We are also 
told that "when God made man He breathed into his 
nostrils the breath of life." Alas, that the inventive faculty 
should tamper with this also, and that the very breath of 
life should become life-destroying. 

It is fair to assume that all men and women of average 
intelligence are acquainted with the fact that the act of 



Selections for Heading. 307 

breathing is the process by which air is taken into the lungs 
and expelled from them, supplying the system with oxygen, 
which is necessary for the warmth of the body and the 
purification of the blood. They know also that the lungs 
are conical organs, one on each side of the chest, and com- 
posed of air cells which are expanded when the chest is en- 
larged, contracted when it is diminished. Perhaps their 
knowledge of respiration also includes the fact that the 
muscles of the back and ribs are in some way employed in 
the act of breathing; that a hearty meal interferes with the 
process; that it is easier to talk, sing, or read aloud " on 
an empty stomach" than a full one, and that a sense of 
relief is instantly experienced on leaving a close room for 
the freedom of the outdoor air. 

It would not be safe to assert that these persons could 
intelligently explain the reasons for these facts. Still less 
probable is it that they could account for the pains and 
"stitches," the irritation or inflammation of the chest, the 
"sore spots" and "catches" of the breath with which the 
great majority are only too familiar. How tremendous is 
the astonishment of those who are told by phrenologist, 
physician, or teacher, "You do not breathe properly." 

"Don't breathe properly! Why, I supposed breathing 
was a natural function and took care of itself." Certainly, 
it will take care of itself if allowed to do so; but interfer- 
ence with this natural function is one of the many inven- 
tions which men, and especially women, have found out to 
their ruin. 

That consumption is one of the great physical scourges 
of the human race, is now received as an axiom. We have 
grown familiar with the advertisements of druggists and 
doctors — "Consumption can be cured." Is it not true, 
that to a great extent, " Consumption can be prevented?" 



308 Selections for Reading. 

We are bound to admit that in all diseases an ounce of 
prevention is worth tons of cure. To one familiar with 
diseases of the respiratory organs, this truth has a more 
than ordinary significance, the approach of all lung and 
bronchial troubles being slow, insidious, deceptive, easily 
checked at the outset; but if too long neglected, defying 
all mortal care and skill. 

There can be nothing new said against corsets and tight- 
lacing, but something more than this popular outcry is 
needed. All this should be said, but other things should 
not be left unsaid. Emerson says that " the progress of 
the intellect is to the clearer vision of causes, which neglects 
surface differences." These surface differences will satisfy 
neither physiologist nor philosopher. The medical and 
mental eye looks farther and judges more truly. Many 
women who are judicious in respect to dress, and many men 
who would as soon think of wearing streamers as stays, are 
among the first to succumb to lung troubles. 

It is true that nothing can be worse for the lungs than 
the pressure brought to bear upon them by tight clothing. 
Draw a strap around a sponge and the air-cells are grad- 
ually and completely compressed. Just as surely does a 
pressure upon the chest and waist hamper the free use of 
the ribs and muscles, while the air-cells of the lungs strug- 
gle in vain for the necessary amount of their proper 
nourishment. The lower and stronger parts of the lungs 
being thug impeded in their work, the act of breathing — if 
carried on at all — must be transferred to the upper and 
weaker part. It is amazing how long and how stupidly 
this habit can be persisted in, and how few persons realize 
its sure and disastrous effect. This cramping and starving 
process long continued — this overtasking of the weaker 
parts of the organs, results most naturally and logically in 



Selections for Heading. 309 

irritation which speedily grows into inflammation, produc- 
ing soreness and pains in the chest, susceptibility to colds, 
and the innumerable symptoms of disease and decay which 
go steadily on in their work of destruction and certain, if 
lingering, death. Everything, therefore, which in any way 
restricts the free use of all the muscles of the waist and 
chest, interferes with the function of breathing, and throws 
this duty upon the weakest part of the lungs, obliging them 
finally to succumb to the unnatural and self-imposed strain. 

The woman who prides herself on her good sense regard- 
ing corsets, will sit all day long over the sewing-machine 
embellishing with superfluous tucks and. ruffles the clothes 
which require her to stand all day long oyer the ironing- 
board. She spends hours over fascinating fancy-work 
which requires a confined position of body, and, as change 
from that employment, takes up a novel, which, allows an 
easier attitude and rest for the fingers. Content to breathe 
the dry furnace air of our modern houses, at no time does 
she willingly take active exercise out of doors. Formal 
calls, shopping expeditions, evening entertainments, full- 
dress drives on a fashionable avenue — these are the only 
occasions upon which she encounters the pure air, and at 
these times either the endless precautions of wraps and 
mufflers prevent it from being of any benefit, or carelessness 
of exposure makes it a positive injury. 

The women who have no choice of duties or pleasures, 
whose time is spent in the hot air of the kitchen, the close 
atmosphere of the shop, the mill, the dressmaker and bon- 
net-maker's rooms — these are also the women with the little 
cough, the slight pain in the chest, all the small symptoms 
with which physicians are dreadfully familiar — the unmis- 
takable initials of sickness and death. 

The men whose business keeps them in cramped positions 



310 Selections for Reading. 

over the cobbler's last, the tailor's bench, the dentist's 
chair, at the easel, the desk — all these must suffer likewise, 
unless the outdoor air and exercise is sufficient to neutral- 
ize the injury. Most men have the desire, as well as the 
opportunity, for this free, active stir after the confinement 
of the day. It is no unusual thing for the horse-car to roll 
by unnoticed while they walk home from the office or the 
store, with the energetic stride and deep inspiration which 
does more than anything else to repair the waste of the day. 
Too true is it that while "man works till set of sun, 
woman's work is never done," giving her little opportunity, 
even if she had the desire, to escape from her daily bondage, 
leaving physical toil and mental care behind her. 

" Oh, that is a medicine which cures everything," we 
hear said in a contemptuous tone and with a shrug of the 
shoulders; "I have no faith in it for that reason." But 
many diseases spring from one source, assuming in different 
persons different forms, dependent upon peculiarities of 
constitution and temperament. What causes rheumatism 
in one, may in another develop into pleurisy or dyspepsia, 
bronchitis or fever. The delicate woman lying on the 
lounge with headache, and the portly man braced in his- 
chair with gout, may seem to need utterly different medi- 
cines and styles of treatment, but the physician knows that 
they differ only as types of the same species. A bad state 
of the blood has a hundred ways of manifestation, and 
chooses with seeming capriciousness divers afflictions for its 
many victims. The lack of proper nourishment for the 
blood is one cause of its impurity, and impure blood is one 
of the most common causes of all disease. In no way can 
it be so effectually defrauded of its food as by wrong habits 
of breathing, which diminish its supply of oxygen, impair 
its circulation, and cripple every function of the body. 



Selections for Reading. 311 

Nature revenges herself for our neglect of any physical 
or mental power by depriving us of its use. The positions 
of body which cramp or hinder the action of the muscles of 
the diaphragm, will in time weaken these muscles, and limit 
the power, even if there is inclination, to draw a full, deep 
breath. The muscles should not be allowed to grow weak 
from disuse; respiration should not be confined to the 
upper part of the lungs; the chest should not be required 
to do the work of the diaphragm; the habit of breathing 
fully and deeply should be firmly established. The pre- 
vention of these things is plain, easy, requiring but little 
time, slight exertion, no medicine, and no money. 

All that is needed is an erect position of the body, ex- 
panded chest, and deep inspiration in the pure air. The 
elasticity and vigor of all the muscles can be greatly 
increased by percussion by patting. Such exercise should 
be of tenest taken by those w r hose employments are sedentary. 
Let the public school-teacher, who finds her scholars grow- 
ing noisy in proportion as she grows nervous, open all the 
windows, and for two minutes keep the children on their 
feet, while they exercise the chest by moderate percussion, 
and the lungs by long, deep, energetic breathing. The rest 
and refreshment will be far out of proportion to the time 
and effort expended in this simple way. Such exercise will 
be beneficial to any one who will take it, and is the surest 
cure for the temporary depression of spirits, slight head- 
aches, and fatigue which often follow too long confinement 
indoors, or application to any special work. Its simplicity 
makes many skeptical concerning its efficacy, and experience, 
like that of the old man who attributed his long life and 
health to having "plenty of God's pure air from an open 
east winder," is the only thing which can prove to un- 
believers the great value of exercise as preventive and cure. 



312 Selections for Reading. 

Much of the difficulty in reading aloud lies in "getting 
out of breath." There is no obstacle so common, yet none 
so easily overcome. The lungs should be filled before be- 
ginning to read, and refilled at every convenient pause — 
always before they are exhausted. With a little practice 
every one — even those with weak vocal organs and small 
breathing capacity — can acquire the "knack" of keeping 
the lungs sufficiently filled, and doing it so quickly and 
quietly as to avoid drawing attention to the process. No 
good singer, actor, or reader is ever out of breath, even when 
appearing to be so for the purpose of producing a certain 
effect. 



A LIBERAL EDUCATION. 

Thomas Henry Huxley. 

Suppose it were perfectly certain that the life and for- 
tune of every one of us would, one day or other, depend 
upon his winning or losing a game of chess. Don't you 
think that we should all consider it to be a primary duty 
to learn at least the names and the moves of the pieces; to 
have a notion of a gambit, and a keen eye for all the means 
of giving and getting out of check? Do you not think that 
we should look with a disapprobation amounting to scorn 
upon the father who allowed his son, or the state which 
allowed its members, to grow up without knowing a pawn 
from a knight? 

Yet it is a very plain and elementary truth that the life, the 
fortune, the happiness of every one of us and, more or less, 
of those who are connected with us, do depend upon our 
knowing something of the rules of a game infinitely more 
difficult and complicated than chess. It is a game which 



Selections for Heading. 313 

has been played for untold ages, every man and woman of 
us being one of the two players in a game of his or her own. 
The chess-board is the world; the pieces are the phenomena 
of the universe; the rules of the game are what we call the 
laws of Nature. The player on the other side is hidden 
from us. We know that his play is always fair, just, and, 
patient. But also we know, to our cost, that he never 
overlooks a mistake, or makes the smallest allowance for 
ignorance. To the man who plays well, the highest stakes 
are paid, with that sort of overflowing generosity with 
which the strong shows delight in strength. And one 
who plays ill is checkmated, without haste, but without re- 
morse. 

What I mean by Education is learning the rules of this 
mighty game. In other words, education is the instruction 
of the intellect in the laws of Nature, under which name I 
include not merely things and their forces, but men and their 
ways; and the fashioning of the affections and of the will into 
an earnest and loving desire to move in harmony with those 
laws. For me, education means neither more nor less than 
this. Anything which professes to call itself education 
must be tried by this standard, and if it fails to stand the 
test, I will not call it education, whatever may be the force 
of authority or of numbers upon the other side. 

It is important to remember that, in strictness, there is 
no such thing as an uneducated man. Take an extreme 
case. Suppose that an adult man, in the full vigor of his 
faculties, could be suddenly placed in the world as Adam is 
said to have been, and then left to do as he best might. 
How long would he be left uneducated? Not five minutes, 
Nature would begin to teach him, through the eye, the ear, 
the touch, the properties of objects. Pain and pleasure 
would be at his elbow, telling him to do this and avoid 



314 Selections for Reading. 

that; and by slow degrees the man would receive an edu- 
cation, which, if narrow, would be thorough, real, and 
adequate to his circumstances, though there would be no 
extras and very few accomplishments. 

Thus the question of compulsory education is settled so 
far as Nature is concerned. Her bill on that question was 
framed and passed long ago. But ignorance is visited as 
sharply as willful disobedience; incapacity meets with the 
same punishment as crime. Nature's discipline is not even 
a word and a blow, and the blow first; but the blow without 
the word. It is left to you to find out why your ears are 
boxed. 

That man, I think, has had a liberal education, who has 
been so trained in youth that his body is the ready servant 
of his will, and does with ease and pleasure all the work 
that, as a mechanism, it is capable of; whose intellect is a 
clear, cold, logic engine, with all its parts of equal strength 
and in smooth working order; ready like a steam engine to 
be turned to any kind of work, and spin the gossamers as 
well as forge the anchors of the mind; whose brain is 
stored with a knowledge of the great and fundamental 
truths of Nature and of the laws of her operations; one, 
who, no stunted ascetic, is full" of life and fire, but whose 
passions are trained to come to heel by a vigorous will, the 
servant of a tender conscience; who has learned to love all 
beauty, whether of nature or of art, to hate all vileness, and 
to respect others as himself. 

Such an one and no other, I conceive, has had a liberal 
education; for he is, as completely as a man. can be, in 
harmony with Nature. He will make the best of her and 
she of him. They will get on together rarely; she as his 
ever beneficent mother; he as her mouthpiece, her con- 
scious self, her minister and interpreter. — Lay Sermons. 



Selections for Reeding. 315 

HOW TO HAVE WHAT WE LIKE. 

Horace Smith. 

Hahd by a poet's attic lived a chemist, 

Or alchemist, who had a mighty 

Faith in the elixir vita?; 
And, though unflattered by the dimmest 

Glimpse of success, kept credulously groping 
And grubbing in his dark vocation; 

Stupidly hoping 
To find the art of changing metals, 
And so coin guineas from his pots and kettles, 
By mystery of transmutation. 

Our starving poet took occasion 

To seek this conjurer's abode; 

Not with encomiastic ode, 
Of laudatory dedication, 

But with an offer to impart, 

For twenty pounds, the secret art 
Which should procure, without the pain 

Of metals, chemistry, and fire, 
What he so long had sought in vain, 

And gratify his heart's desire. 

The money paid, our bard was hurried 

To the philosopher's sanctorum, 
"Who, as it were, sublimed and flurried 

Out of his chemical decorum, 
Crowed, capered, giggled, seemed to spurn his 
Crucibles, retort, and furnace, 

And cried, as he secured the door, 
And carefully put to the shutter, 

" Now, now, the secret, I implore! 
For Heaven's sake, speak, discover, utter!" 

With grave and solemn air the poet 
Cried: " List! list, for thus I show it: 



316 Selections for Reading. 

Let this plain truth those ingrates strike, 
Who still, though blessed, new blessings crave; 

That we may all have what we like, 
Simply by liking what we have!" 



OUR HONORED DEAD. 

Edward Everett. 

It has been the custom from the remotest antiquity to 
preserve and hand down to posterity, in bronze and in 
marble, the counterfeit presentment of illustrious men. 
Within the last few years modern research has brought to 
light on the banks of the Tigris, huge slabs of alabaster, 
buried for ages, which exhibit in relief the faces and the 
persons of men who governed the primeval East in the gray 
dawn of history. Three thousand years have elapsed since 
they lived and reigned and built palaces and fortified cities 
and waged war and gained victories of which the trophies 
are carved upon these monumental tablets, — the triumphal 
procession, the chariots laden with spoil, the drooping cap- 
tive, the conquered monarch in chains,— but the legends 
inscribed upon the stone are imperfectly deciphered, and 
little beyond the names of the personages, and the most 
general tradition of their exploits is preserved. 

In like manner the obelisks and temples of ancient 
Egypt are covered with the sculptured images of whole dy- 
nasties of Pharaohs, — older than Moses, older than Joseph 
whose titles are recorded in the hieroglyphics with which 
the granite is charged, and which are gradually yielding up 
their long concealed mysteries to the sagacity of modern 
criticism. The plastic arts, as they passed into Hellas, 
with all the other arts which give grace and dignity to ov$ 



Selections for Reading. 317 

nature, reached a perfection unknown to Egypt or Assyria; 
and the heroes of Greece and Kome, immortalized by the 
sculptor, still people the galleries and museums of the 
modern world, 

In every succeeding age and in every country in which 
the fine arts have been cultivated, the respect and affection 
of survivors have found a pure and rational gratification in 
the historical portrait and the monumental statue of the 
honored and loved in private life, and especially of the 
great and good who have deserved well of their country. 

The skill of the painter and sculptor, which thus comes 
in aid of the memory and imagination, is in its highest 
degree one of the rarest, as it is one of the most exquisite 
accomplishments within our attainment, and in its perfec- 
tion as seldom witnessed as the perfection of speech or 
music. The plastic hand must be moved by the same 
ethereal instinct as the eloquent lips or the recording pen. 
The number of those who, in the language of Michael 
Angelo, can discern the finished statue in the shapeless 
block and bid it start into artistic life — who are endowed 
with the exquisite gift of molding the rigid bronze or the 
lifeless marble into graceful, majestic and expressive forms 
— is not greater than the number of those who are able to 
make the spiritual essence, the finest shades of thought 
and feeling, sensible to the mind, through the eye and ear, 
in the mysterious embodiment of the written and the 
spoken word. If Athens, in her palmiest days, had but one 
Pericles, she had also but one Phidias. 

The portraits and statues of the honored dead kindle 
the generous ambition of the youthful aspirant to fame. 
Themistocles could not sleep for the trophies in the Ceram- 
icus; and when the living Demosthenes had ceased to 
speak, the stony lips remained to rebuke and exhort his 



318 Selections for Reading. 

degenerate countrymen. More than a hundred years have 
elapsed since the great Newton passed away; but from age 
to age his statue by Koubillac, in the ante-chapel of Trinity 
College will give distinctness to the conceptions formed of 
him by hundreds and thousands of ardent youthful spirits, 
filled with reverence for that transcendent intellect, which, 
from the phenomena that fall within our limited vision, 
deduced the imperial law by which the Sovereign Mind 
rules the entire universe. We can never look on the per- 
son of Washington; but his serene and noble countenance, 
perpetuated by the pencil and the chisel, is familiar to far 
greater multitudes than ever stood in his living presence, 
and will be thus familiar to the latest generation. 

What parent, as he conducts his son to Mount Auburn or 
to Bunker Hill, will not, as he passes before their monu 
mental statues, seek to heighten his reverence for virtue* 
for patriotism, for science, for learning, for devotion to the 
public good, as he bids him contemplate the form of that 
grave and venerable Winthrop, who left his pleasant home 
in England to come and found a new republic in this un- 
trodden wilderness; of that ardent and intrepid Otis, who 
first struck out the spark of American independence; of 
that noble Adams, its most eloquent champion on the floor 
of Congress; of that martyr, Warren, who laid down his 
life in its defense; of that self-taught Bowditch, who, with- 
out a guide, threaded the starry mazes of the heavens; of 
that Story, honored at home and abroad as one of the 
brightest luminaries of the law, and, by a felicity of which 
I believe there is no other example, admirably portrayed in 
marble by his son? 

Your long rows of quarried granite may crumble to the 
dust; the corn-fields in yonder villages ripening to the 
sickle may, like the plains of stricken Lombardy, be kneaded 



Selections for Reading. 319 

into bloody clods by the madding wheels of artillery; this 
populous city, like the old cities of Etruria and Campagna 
Komagna, may be desolated by the pestilence which walketh 
in darkness, may decay with the lapse of time, and the 
busy mart, which now rings with the din of trade, become 
as lonely and still as Carthage or Tyre, as Babylon or 
Nineveh; but the names of the great and good shall survive 
the desolation and the ruin; the memory of the wise, the 
brave, the patriotic shall never perish. 

Yes, Sparta is a wheat-field; a Bavarian prince holds 
court at the foot of the Acropolis; the traveling virtuoso 
digs for marble in the Eoman Forum, and beneath the 
ruins of the temple of Jupiter Oapitolinus; but Lycurgus 
and Leonidas, and Miltiades and Demosthenes, and Cato 
and Tully still live. All the great and good shall live in the 
heart of the ages while marble and bronze shall endure; 
and when marble and bronze have perished, they shall still 
live in memory, so long as men shall reverence law, honor 
patriotism and love liberty! 



SOMETHING GREAT. 

The trial was ended — the vigil past; 
All clad in Ms arms was the knight at last, 
The goodliest knight in the whole wide land, 
With face that shone with a purpose grand. 
The king looked on him with gracious eyes, 
And said: " He is meet for some high enterprise." 
To himself he thought: " I will conquer fate; 
I will surely die, or do something great." 

So from the palace he rode away; 
There was trouble and need in the town that day; 
A child had strayed from his mother's side 
Into the woodland dark and wide. 



320 Selections for Heading. 

" Help! " cried the mother with sorrow wild — 
" Help me, Sir Knight, to seek my child! 
The hungry wolves in the forest roam; 
Help me to bring my lost one home! " 

He shook her hand from his bridle-rein: 

" Alas! poor mother, you ask in vain; 

Some meaner succor will do, maybe, 

Some squire or varlet of low degree. 

There are mighty wrongs in the world to right; 

I keep my sword for a noble fight. 

I am sad at heart for your baby's fate, 

But I ride in haste to do something great." 

One wintry night when the sun had set, 

A blind old man by the way he met. 

" Now, good Sir Knight, for our Lady's sake, 

On the sightless wanderer pity take! 

The wind blows cold, and the sun is down; 

Lead me, I pray, till I reach the town." 

" Nay," said the knight, " I cannot wait: 

I ride in haste to do something great." 

So on he rode in his armor bright, 

His sword all keen for the longed-for fight. 

" Laugh with us— laugh! " cried the merry crowd. 

" Oh, weep! " wailed others with sorrow bowed. 

" Help us! " the weak and weary prayed. 

But for joy, nor grief, nor need he sta} r ed. 

And the years rolled on, and his eyes grew dim, 

And he died — and none made moan for him. 

He missed the good that he might have done; 
He missed the blessings he might have won; 
Seeking some glorious task to find, 
His eyes to all humbler work were blind! 
He that is faithful in that which is least 
Is bidden to sit at the heavenly feast; 
Yet men and women lament their fr te, 
If they be not called to do something great. 



Selections for Reading. 321 



LIFE. 

John Buskin, 

If your life were but a fever fit — the madness of a 
night whose follies were all to be forgotten in the dawn, 
it might matter little how you fretted away the sickly 
hours — what toys you snatched at, or let fall — what 
visions you followed wistfully with the deceived eyes of 
sleepless frenzy. . . But if this life be no dream, . . . 
if all the peace and power and joy you can ever win must 
be won now; and all fruit of victory gathered here, or 
never — will you still, throughout the puny totality of 
your life, waste yourselves in the fire of vanity? If there 
is no rest which remaineth for you, is there none you 
might presently take? AVas this grass of the earth made 
green for your shroud only, not for your bed? and can 
you never lie down upon it, but only under it? The 
heathen, to whose creed you have returned, thought not 
so. They knew that life brought its contest, but they ex- 
pected from it also the crown of all contest: No proud 
one! no jeweled circlet flaming through Heaven above the 
height of the unmerited throne; only some few leaves of 
wild olive, cool to the tired brow, through a few years of 
peace. It should have been of gold, they thought; but 
Jupiter was poor; this was the best the god could give 
them. Free-heartedness, and graciousness, and undis- 
turbed trust, and requited love, and the sight of the 
peace of others, and the ministry to their pain — these, 
and the blue sky above you, and the sweet waters and 
flowers of the earth beneath; and mysteries and 
presences, innumerable, of living things — these may yet 
be here your riches; untormenting and divine. 



322 Selections for Reading. 

ENTHUSIASM OF LIFE. 
A. Harrington. 

If there be one want of the time imperious beyond 
another, it is that of earnest men. Literature has had 
full enough parasites and charlatans. The Church wants 
men — men as ardent for duty as Alexander for glory — in 
whose sight the games and gauds of the earth vanish be- 
fore the cause of truth like vapors before the rising 
sun. The state, too, can ill afford to substitute offi- 
cials, partisans and demagogues, for patriots. It wants 
men with the ability to see, and the enthusiasm to 
feel that policy is duty. It wants men who, sinking all 
selfish and sectional interests in an all-absorbing love 
of country, boldly venture position, fortune, life if need 
be, to compass an object dearer than self; who on this 
country's altars, swear eternal enmity to all who dare 
menace the integrity of the Union, or trifle with the con- 
stitutional rights of any section. 

Examine the muster-roll of Genius, trace the progress 
of revolutions and reformations through the eras of his- 
tory, and you will learn the power of true enthusiasm to 
beautify and better man's condition. Heroes, martyrs, 
the mighty dead heard, and the mighty living hear its 
notes and march to its inspiring music. 

Every noble instinct of humanity condemns a selfish 
apathy in human affairs. Only mean spirits will remain 
listless, while the world within and the world without 
continue their manifold pleadings for enthusiasm of life. 
Poet, orator, statesman, reformer, be sincere, be earnest, 
be true; for such the world has honors — humanity its be- 



Selections for Beading. 323 

lievers — heaven its immortality! Act, then, as best you 
can, and you shall not be of that number — 

44 Who, fast-footed to their native spot, 

In life are useless, and in death forgot." 



IN THE HIGHLANDS. 

William Black. 

Ttte monotonous sound of the waterfall, so far from dis- 
turbing the new guest of Castle Dare, only soothed her to 
rest. But in the yery midst of the night she was startled 
by some loud commotion that appeared to prevail both within 
and without the house; and when she was fully awakened 
it seemed to her that the whole earth was being shaken to 
pieces in the storm. The wind howled in the chimneys; 
the rain dashed on the window-panes with a rattle as of 
musketry; far below she could hear the awful booming of 
the Atlantic breakers. The gusts that drove against the 
high house seemed ready to tear it from its foothold of rock 
and whirl it inland; or was it the sea itself that was rising 
in 'its thunderous power to sweep away this bauble from the 
face of the mighty cliffs? And then the wild and desolate 
morning that followed! Through the bewilderment of the 
running water on the panes, she looked abroad on the 
tempest-riven sea — a slate-colored waste of hurrying waves 
with wind-swept streaks of foam on them — and on the 
lowering and ever-changing clouds. 

But next day — such are the rapid changes in the High- 
lands—broke blue and shining; and Miss Gertrude White 



324 Selections for Heading. 

was amazed to find that the awful Sound was now brilliant 
in the most beautiful colors — for the tide was low and the 
yellow sandbanks were shining through the blue waters of 
the sea. And would she not, seeing that the boat was 
lying down at the quay now, sail round the island and see 
the splendid sight of the Atlantic breaking on the wild 
coast on the western side? She hesitated; and then when 
it was suggested that she might walk across the island, she 
eagerly accepted the alternative. 

But where Macleod, eager to please her and show her the 
beauty of the Highlands, saw lovely white sands, smiling 
plains of verdure, and far views of the sunny sea, she only 
saw loneliness and desolation and a constant threatening of 
death from the fierce Atlantic. Could anything have been 
more beautiful, he said to himself, than this magnificent 
scene? — the wildly rushing seas, coming thundering on to 
the rocks and springing so high into the air that the snow- 
white foam showed black against the glare of the sky; the 
nearer islands gleaming with a touch of brown on their 
sunward side, while far away in the north the mountains 
were faint and spectral in the haze of the sunlight. Then 
the wild coast around them, with its splendid masses of 
granite and its spare grass, a brown-green in the warm 
sun; its bays of silver sand, and its sea-birds whiter than 
the white clouds that come sailing over the blue. She 
recognized only the awfulness and the loneliness of that 
wild shore, with its suggestions of crashing storms in the 
night-time and the cries of drowning men dashed helplessly 
on the cruel rocks. She was very silent all the way back, 
though he told her stories of the fairies that used to inhabit 
those sandy and grassy plains. 

And could anything have been more magical than the 
beauty of that evening after the storm had altogether died 



Selections for Reading. 325 

away? The red sunset sank behind the dark olive-green of 
the hills; a pale, clear twilight took its place and shone 
over those mystic ruins that were the object of many a 
thought and many a pilgrimage in the far past and forgot- 
ten years; then the stars began to glimmer as the distant 
shores and the sea grew dark; a wonderful radiance rose 
behind the low hills; across the waters of the Sound came 
a belt of quivering light as the white moon sailed slowly up 
into the sky. There was an odor of new-mown hay in the 
night air. Far away they could hear the murmuring of the 
waves around the rocks. They did not speak a word as 
they walked along to those solemn ruins overlooking the sea, 
that were now a mass of mysterious shadow except where 
the eastern walls and the tower were touched by the silvery 
light that had just come into the heavens. — Macleod of 
Dare. 



COMPENSATION. 

Frances Ridley Havergal. 

Oh, the compensating springs! Oh, the balance-wheels of life, 
Hidden away in the workings under the seeming strife! 
Slowing the fret and the friction, weighting the whirl and the force, 
Evolving the truest power from each unconscious source, 

How shall we gauge the whole, who can only guess a part? 
How can we read the life when we cannot spell the heart? 
How shall we measure another, we who can never know 
From the juttings above the surface, the depth of the vein below? 

Even our present way is known to ourselves alone, 
Height and abyss and torrent, flower and thorn and stone; 
But we gaze on another's path as a far-off mountain scene, 
Scanning the outlined hills, but never the vales between. 



326 Selections for Reading. 

The easy path in the lowland hath little of grand or new, 
But a toilsome ascent leads onward to a wide and glorious view; 
Peopled and warm is the valley, lonely and chill the height; 
But the peak that is nearer the storm-cloud is nearer the stars of 
light. 

Launch on the foaming stream that bears you along like a dart, — 
There is danger of rapid and rock, there is tension of muscle and 

heart; 
Glide on the easy current, monotonous, calm and slow, 
You are spared the quiver and strain in the safe and quiet flow. 

For rapture of love is linked with the pain or fear of loss, 
And the hand that takes the crown must ache with many a cross; 
Yet he who hath never a conflict, hath never a victor's palm, 
And only the toilers know the sweetness of rest and calm. 

Ah, if we knew it all we surely should understand 

That the balance of joy and sorrow is held with an even hand; 

That the scale of success or loss shall never overflow, 

And that compensation is twined with the lot of high and low. 



SOME PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. 



THE ART OF EXPRESSION. 

A picture mar express something and so may a song. 
Commonly expression means speech, words, either our 
own or composed by another. To express yourself clearly 
and to the point is a simple and a very necessary accom- 
plishment. To write a letter or make a speech, or to 
take part in ordinary conversation, implies the ability to 
express yourself with reasonable ease and clearness. 

Yet the fine art of expression is something much 
higher than mere letter-writing, conversation, or speech- 
making. This is the art of expressing in the finest and 
most artistic manner the thoughts of the poets and 
writers who. having something to say. have said it in the 
most beautiful manner. It is not exactly reading aloud, 
it is not elocution, or acting, or pantomime, or oratory, 
and yet it may be something of all these. 

There are three distinct ways in which we may enjoy 
a fine poem: We may read it from the printed page in 
silence; we may listen while someone reads it aloud; or 
listen to someone reading it while we ourselves hold the 
book and follow the words as they are spoken by the 
reader. There is also a fourth method, and that is to 
commit the poem to memory and to repeat it aloud. 

The first method is the most common and the least 
satisfactory, because we may be morally certain that we 



328 Some Practical Suggestions. 

are reading it pretty badly. Besides, reading in silence 
is unsocial, a little selfish, and not always fair to the 
poet or ourselves. Eeading in silence misses half the 
charm of reading. It is not easy to carry the cadence, 
rhythm, and musical form of the poem in the mind. Just 
try it. Eead any good poem for the first time to your- 
self and then listen to the same poem read or recited 
aloud by a trained reader. Now it's quite another thing. 
Now to the thought we add the sound of the rhyme, the 
swing of the rhythm, all the music of the words, and all 
the charm of a beautiful voice. Besides all this, the 
reader may give a wholly new meaning to the words, and 
thus add something to the poem we might never have 
found alone. As well look over the notes of a song and 
try to imagine how they will sound as to read always in 
silence. 

Naturally, this art of expression rests chiefly on the 
art of reading, and yet it is not mere reading. Eeading 
aloud or recitation makes the " medium " of this art — 
the art itself is the complete artistic development of the 
man or woman, so that in using this medium they bring 
out all the values of the poem they read. Nor is a 
trained voice, skillful inflection, or graceful gesture every- 
thing. There must be also general culture, ability to 
understand what is read, and the taste to select the right 
thing and the best thing to read. 

People will always enjoy the fine presentation of fine 
literature. We are getting away from the mere enter- 
tainment side of this art of expression, and those who 
hope to succeed in filling the demand for readers must 
follow broad and thorough courses of study. 



Some Practical Suggestions. 329 

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 
Joseph E. Worcester. 

The orthography of the English language has been 
undergoing continual changes from the time of its first 
formation to the present day, although for a century or 
upwards it may be regarded as having assumed a com- 
paratively settled form. If v\ r e look into books 
printed in the reign of Queen Anne, we meet with many 
words having an orthography different from that which 
is now in use. If we carry our observation back as far as 
the reign of Queen Elizabeth, we find the difference in 
orthography greatly increased; and when, in our retro- 
spective examination, we reach the age of Chaucer and 
Wickliffe, we find many words, which, though they are 
now actually in use, are so disguised in their orthographi- 
cal form, and are of so odd and uncouth an appearance, 
that they can hardly be recognized. 

The early productions of English literature, which are 
still much read, such as the works of Bacon, Hooker, 
Shakespeare, and the common version of the Bible, ap- 
pear now in an orthography very different from that in 
which they were at first printed. The first four verses 
of the thirty-second chapter of Deuteronomy, in the first 
edition of the common version of the Bible, printed in 
1811, stand thus: " Giue eare, yee heauens, and I will 
speake; and heare, earth, the words of my mouth. My 
doctrine shall drop as the raine; my speach shall distill 
as the deaw, as the smal raine vpon the tender herb, 
and as showres vpon* the grasse. Because I wil publish 
the Name of the Lord; ascribe yee greatnesse vnto our 



330 Some Practical Suggestions. 

God. He is the rocke, his work is perfecte; for all his 
wayes are Iudgement: a God of trueth, and without 
iniquity, just and right is he." In these few lines, which 
may be taken as a specimen of the whole, there are 
twenty-seven instances in which the words appear in an 
orthography different from that in which they are now 
printed. It is not uncommon to find the same word 
spelt in more ways than one on the same page, as is 
often the case with works even of the most distinguished 
writers printed in the early ages of English literature. 

The pronunciation of the English language, like that 
of all living languages, is in a great measure arbitrary. It 
is exposed to the caprices of fashion and taste. It is liable 
to change from one age to another; and it varies, more 
or less, not only in the different and distantly separated 
countries in which it is spoken, but also in the different 
divisions and districts of the same country. No two 
speakers or orthoepists, though inhabitants of the same 
place, would be likely to agree in the pronunciation of 
all its words. A proper pronunciation is a desirable ac- 
complishment, and is indicative of a correct taste and a 
good education; still it ought to be remembered, that, in 
speech as in manners, he who is the most precise is often 
the least pleasing, and that rusticity is more excusable 
than affectation. 



THE AIR YOU BREATHE. 

Do you know that you are simply a furnace burning 

oxygen? That you live and work on 'the air you breathe? 

Possibly you think it is the food you take in, that 



Some Practical Suggestions. 331 

keeps you going. Change that idea. See the locomotive. 
Its steam corresponds to the air in your lungs. Your 
lungs are boiler and furnace combined. The food you 
eat, once you have attained your growth, is merely the oil 
that greases the wheels of the train, preventing and re- 
pairing waste. Meat and bread build up your tissues, 
feed the groups of cells that constitute your body. But 
fresh air is the motive power of the whole concern. 

Cultivate the capacity of your lungs. Add daily to 
their power to absorb and utilize the air which sur- 
rounds us. 

Fresh air is the one reliance of the prize-fighter, the 
race-horse, the actress, the orator. Each must work to 
develop the lungs and the lung power, to take in air 
sufficient to make up for great exertion. 

If you have to lift a heavy trunk you instinctively fill 
your lungs with air before lifting. If you have a long 
walk or hard run ahead of you, you are careful to have 
your stomach empty, and you watch your breathing all 
the way. 

Breathing is, in its way, an art. Look at the great 
singers, especially the women. You will be amazed at 
the development of their breathing apparatus. Their 
lungs have spread out their ribs from top to bottom, 
proper breathing has thrown the head back and brought 
the chest out. They are creatures different from the 
poor, narrow-chested women who take in a little air in 
stuffy rooms and wonder why they suffer. 

Think often of the importance of air, and get as much 
of it as you can. Make it your business to breathe prop- 
erly for a j T ear or two — if you have never paid attention 
to that. Once the habit is formed, you will find your 



332 Some Practical Suggestions. 

health and strength permanently improved as no medi- 
cines could improve them. 

Besides giving actual bodily strength, fresh air pre- 
vents disease and cures it often. 

The late Dr. Brown-Sequard once declared to the- 
writer that only fresh air could cure consumption, and 
that it could always cure, if taken in time and in quanti- 
ties great enough. 

Only one case had come before him, he said, of a man 
actually living and thriving with one lung. The one- 
lunged man was an American — a doctor. 

When he and all others had decided that the time had 
come for him to die, this one-lunged man decided to give 
a full trial to the value of fresh air. He secured an ap- 
pointment as physician on an ocean liner. Summer and 
winter, with never an exception, no matter what the 
weather, he slept above decks. Friendly doctors told 
him that the exposure would only kill him a little quicker. 
But fresh air and one lung combined sufficed him. After 
a number of years he appeared before Brown-Sequard 
and the other members of the French Academy of Medi- 
cine, a consumptive saved from sure death by exaggerated 
quantities of pure air. 

Breathe the air in slowly; let it escape from the lungs 
just as slowly as you take it in. Breathe regularly. Take 
many deep, slow breaths every morning and every evening 
on the way to and from work. That alone will add two 
or three inches to your chest measure — which will please 
your vanity. It will also add several years to your life. 

Eemember that the blood runs through your body up 
and down from brain to toes incessantly. It starts on 
its journey a clear, bright, clean fluid. It comes back 



Some Practical Suggestions. 333 

dark and murky, laden with the impurities that it has 
collected on its travels through your system. It is 
cleaned and purified by the air as it passes through your 
lungs. Take in plenty of air to clean it, and to clean 
your mind as well. For your mental state always reflects 
that of your blood and body. 

Throw your shoulders back, hold your head straight. 
Draw your neck backward to expand the tight ribs at the 
top of your chest. Consumption always begins at the top 
of the lungs under the ribs, which are compressed and 
which compress the upper lungs in consequence of our 
squatting, sedentary habits. 

Don't be afraid of the cold air. Take in plenty of it. 

And may your health increase. It surely will. 



AN APPEAL FKOM THE VOWELS. 

Why do you not treat us vowels rightly? What have 
we done that we should be so fearfully mangled, so 
grossly misrepresented, frequently completely anni- 
hilated, while over our poor bleeding bodies only a few 
clear-brained and conscientious elocutionists drop a tear 
because they know our value. We are compelled to pro- 
test, as further patience on our part would simply lead 
to our complete obliteration. We are useful and try to 
please everybody. Our tempers are excellent and we are 
always ready for work. Without us there could be no 
money, enjoyment, sunshine, music, or even life. We 
give strength, variety, and pleasure to everybody. We 
are never dull, never disagreeable, and never refuse our 
best service to anyone who will simply accept it. If we 



334 Some Practical Suggestions. 

are rightly used we yield fortunes to people and rule 
worlds. We are small and yet mighty. We are fit for 
the lisping infant, yet the mightiest orator who shakes 
the world finds it impossible to get along without us. 
We are always young, and yet we count centuries. We 
have been framed and developed by thousands of clever 
men; and remembering that so much has been done to 
suit us to everybody's requirements, the grievance is very 
great that we should not receive more consideration. 
We do not complain of absolutely ignorant people. 
Much may be said of such delinquents, as their training 
and associations have been against that mental clearness 
which is the best eyesight after all, the higher, safer 
vision. No, we righteously grumble against people who 
know better and do badly. We have a beautiful i, but 
how often they completely shut it up. We have a 
splendid u, but we may safely say you scarcely ever use 
it as it should be. As to the a, it is so badly treated that 
it is a wonder this herald of the alphabet does not for- 
sake the language altogether. The e, is full of ease, but 
one — or millions — must regard it as full of difficulty 
when we reflect that its existence, in nine cases out of 
ten, is shamefully ignored. When we mention o we are 
almost inclined simply to ejaculate it, and stop short 
with an injured look of eloquence. The o has many ap- 
plications, but the sound indicative of debt is the one 
we like best just at present, for this brother of ours has 
great claims on mankind. 

This is a tiny grumble to begin with, but should we 
not be treated properly, or, at least, with more care in 
future, our tempers will certainly rise, and we shall be 
rioters of such a type that no policeman yet appointed 



Some Practical Suggestions. 335 

will be able to take us all into custody, though one of us 
cannot escape getting into a cell. Two of us are in tears, 
and we raise our cry to be treated as we should, and if this 
is done you will find us so good and useful that you will 
never speak without mentioning us. 



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B Ztn UJeeKs' Course in elocution 



By J. V. Coombs, formerly Professor of English Literature an J 
Elocution in Eureka College, Eureka, 111. Assisted by Virgil A. 
Pinkley, Principal of the Department of Elocution in School of Music, 
Cincinnati, Ohio. Revised and Enlarged by C. H. Harne, Professor 
of Elocution and Reading in Salina Normal University, Salina, Kan- 
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Many good books on the Theory of Elocution have 
been published — choice selections are plentiful, but very 
few authors have combined, with the Essentials of Elocu- 
tion, a good variety of proper exercises for practice. In 
Part I, the author has briefly outlined the best way to teach 
a beginner to read. Part II contains a full discussion of 
Dictionary Work, the value of which cannot be over- 
estimated, Part III contains helpful suggestions to 
Teachers of Elocution. Part IV (the largest and most 
important part) contains a thorough discussion of the 
Elements of Elocution, each principle being carefully 
considered. Part V comprises a splendid collection of 
Humorous, Dramatic and Oratorical selections for prac- 
tice — the whole being an ideal work for teachers to use 
with classes which have only a brief period of time to 
devote to the subject. 

The chapters devoted to Elocution have been so 
divided that they can be easily completed by a class in 
ten weeks'. time as follows : 

1st Week. Outline of Elocution 

2d Week, Respiration and Breathing 

3rd Week* Physical Culture (Calisthenics) 

4th Week. Articulation 

5th Week. Orthoepy (Pronunciation) 

6th Week. Vocal Culture 

7th Week. Qualities of the Voice 

8th Week. The Art of Vocal Expression 

9th Week. Gesture 

10th Week, Gesture 

A great variety of selections, Humorous, Dramatic 
and Oratorical, illustrating the various principles studied, 
immediately follow the Lessons. These are to be used to 
test the work that is done by the class from week to week. 

Sample copies will be furnished to Teachers of Elocution and 
classes supplied at $1.00. 

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School Books of All Publishers at One Store 



College Girls* 
Three-minute Readings 

$1.00— CLOTH, 500 PAGES, WITH INDEX— $1.00 

Here is a volume for American girls by American 
women — an ideal long in demand, now realized for the 
first time. In this book patriotism is the keynote domi- 
nating a series of new, irQ'sh.,speakable selections, pathetic, 
humorous, descriptive, oratorical ; running, in fact, 
the gamut of the emotions. A book for the American 
girl and the American young woman in the college, the 
high school, the academy, and the home. 

This new book is new in every sense of the word, but 
particularly in voicing the golden thoughts of scores of 
the living representative women of America— women edu- 
cators, women philanthropists, women reformers. 

Here is a partial list of the contributors : 

Mrs. A. Giddings Park "Susan Cootidge" 

Eva Lovett Cameron {Brooklyn Eagle) Agnes E. Mitchell 
Edith M . Thomas Rsv. AnmH bhaw 

Emma Lazarus Margaret junkia Preston 

Adelaide Procter Amelia Barr 

Celia Thax'er Norah Perry 

Christina Rossetti Alice Gary 

Anna Robertson Lindsay Adeline Whitney 

J. Ellen Foster Emily Warren 

Margaret E. Sangster Lucy Larcom 

Clara Barton Ella Wheeler Wilcox 

Frances E. Willard Harriet Beecher Stowe 

Kate Doug as Wigg'n Mar Mapes Dodge 

Isabel A Ma\\on( Ladies Home Journal) "Gail Hamilton" 
and there are many others. 

A brief note, happily worded, conveying information not to be 
found elsewhere, regarding the author or the occasion, accompanies 
most of the selections. 

Teachers will find selections appropriate to Memorial Day, Arbor 
Day, Washington's Birthday, and all other patriotic occasions. And 
from the pages of this book speak the voices of many of our 
presidents, from Washington to McKinley. 

Besides a Perspicuous list of contents, the volume contains a complete gen- 
eral index by titles and authors; and also a separate index of authors, thus 
enabling one who remembers only^ the title to find readily the atrthor, or 
who recalls only the author to find just as readily all of her selections. 

I ike the companion volume, College Men's reclamations, this work 
contains many "pieces" suitable both for girls and boys, and the two books 
may well stand side by side upon the shelf of every student and every 
teacher, ever ready with some selection that is sure to please, and exactly 
suited to the speaker and to the occasion. 



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College Men's 
3=minute Declamations 

$1.00— CLOTH, 381 PAGES, WITH INDEX— $1.00 

Here at last is a volume containing just what college 
students have been calling for time out of mind, but 
never could find — something besides the old selections, 
which, though once inspiring, now fail to thrill the 
audience, because declaimed to death! Live topics pre- 
sented by live men ! Full of vitality for prize speaking. 

Such is the matter with which this volume abounds. 
To mention a few names — each speaking in his well- 
known style and characteristic vein : 

Chauncey M. Depew President Eliot {Harvard) 

Abram S. Hewitt George Parsons Lathrop 

Carl Schurz Bishop Potter 

Wiiiiam E. Gladstone Sir Charles Russell 

Edward J. Phelps President Carter (Williams* 

Benjamin Harrison T. De Witt Talmage 

Grover Cleveland Ex-Pres. White (Cornell) 

General Horace Porter Rev. Newman Smyth 

Doctor Storrs Emilio Castelar 

Here, too, sound the familiar voices of George William Curtis, 
Lowell, Blaine, Phillips Biooks, Beecher, Garfield, Disraeli, Bryant, 
3rady, and Choate. Poets also :— Longfellow, Holmes, Tennyson, 
Byron, Whittier, Schiller, Shelley, Hood, and others. 

More than a hundred other authors besides ! We have not space 
o enumerate. But the selections from them are all just the thing. 
\nd all the selections are brief. 

In addition to a Perspicuous list of contents, the volume contains a com- 
plete general index by titles and authors ; and also a separate index of 
author s, thus enabling one who remembers only the title to find readily the 
author , or who recalls only the author to find just as readily all of his 
selections. 

Another invaluable feature :— Preceding each selection are given, 
so far as ascertainable, the vocation, the residence, and the dates of 
birth and death of the author ; and the occasion to which we owe the 
oration, or address, or poem. 

Like the companion volume, College Girls' Readings, this work con 
tains many " pieces " suitable both for g-irls and boys, and the two books 
may well stand side by side upon the shelf of every student and every 
teacher, ever ready with some selection that is sure to please, and exactly 
suited to the speaker and to the occasion. 



HINDS & NOBLE 
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Schoolbooks of all publishers at one store 



Commencement Parts* 

cloth — Price $1.50 Postpaid — twelvemo 

Here is a book full of the real thing, and con- 
taining nothing but the real thing ! 

The models here — every one a complete address 
—are not composed by the compiler to show what 
he would say if he should happen to be called on for 
a class poem, or an ivy song ; a valedictory, or an 
oration ; a response to a toast, an essay, a recitation . or 
what-not. Not at all! But every one of the st efforts :i 
in this book is real — in the sense that it is what some 
one did do on the particular occasion when he actu- 
ally had to stand up and speak. This entitles their 
to be designated models in a genuine sense. 

If you are called upon, for any occasion (no 
matter what) during your whole high-school or college 
career, and wish a model to show how some one else 
has risen to a similar opportunity, we think you will 
discover by a glance at the list of contents of Com- 
mencenient Parts some illustration of exactly what 
you require. Note also the lists of class mottoes, 
subjects for orations, essays, themes, toasts, etc. 

Besides the above we publish also the following, cf interest to 
those who have to ' ' appear in public en the stage. ' * And we can' t 
think of any "effort" throughout one's whole career that is not 
provided for — from the little tot's first curt'sy, and along through 
the school and college years, to the debate of important civie 
problems by the adult before his fellow citizens :— 

fros and Cons. Both sides of live question-. $1.50. 

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Handy Pieces to Speak, 103 on separate cards. 50c. 

I^ist of "* Contents " of any orall of above free on request if you mentiot 

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SchQQlbooks of all publishers at onestvr* 



Pros and Cons 

The Affirmative and the Negative of the Questions Of The Day 
in the form of 

Complete Debates 

cloth— Price $1.50 Postpaid— twelvemo 

Something new, something practical, something up-to-date. 
A book that exactly fits into these last years of this wonderfu 1 
last decade of the passing century. 

Besides giving complete directions for the organization ana 
the conduct of Debating Societies in accordance with parliamen- 
tary procedure, this book in many of its debates presents the 
speakers as actually addressing their hearers from "the floor,' 1 

each speaker in turn with his arguments the first speakers 

for the affirmative and the negative in turn ; then the second 
speakers in turn ; in some cases, the third speakers ; and then 
the summing up by the leaders. 

The array of arguments thus marshalled constitutes an intelli- 
gent and intelligible statement of every principle and every fact 
affecting the questions debated, thus providing not ■ n!y an ex- 
haustive study of each question enabling a thorough mastery of it 
for knowledge sake, but also furnishing a thoroughly instructive 
and decidedly lively and entertaining program for an evening's 
pleasure and profit. 

Among the important topics discussed are the following :— 
Government Control* Immigration* 

Our Foreign Policy* The License Question* 

The Tariff. The Suffrage* 

The Currency Question* Postage, 
Transportation* Our Commercial Policy* 

And many others. 

There is also a list of " questions" statable for debate, several of 
which are " briefly outlined" to assist the student to prepare and to 
deliver his own *' effort." 

Essays and orations, many of them suitable for commencement 
parts, Salutatory and Valedictory addresses, supplement the debates, 
the whole providing for the student at college and the high-school 
scholar, the parent at home, and the man of affairs, ju>t that equip- 
ment that one needs not only for thinking out the questions that every- 
body is talking about, but for arguing them in a convincing manner. 

HINDS & NOBLE* Publishers 
4-5-J3-J4 Cooper Institute New York City 

Schoolbooks of all publishers it one stor' 



Contents of "Pros and Cons/* 



SECTION 

I. How to Organize a Society, 

II. Rules Governing Debates, 

III. Introductory Observations, 

IV. Political Economy, 



PAGB 

I 

12 

15 
24 



Questions Fully Discussed in the Affirmative and the Negative* 

V. Resolved, That the Single Gold Standard Is for 
the Best Interests of the Country, 

Should Cuba be Annexed to the United States? 

Resolved, That the Fear of Punishment Has a 
Greater Influence on Human Conduct than 
Hope of Reward, ..... 

Resolved, That the United States should Adopt 
Penny Postage, ..... 

Resolved, That High License Is the Best Means 
of Checking Intemperance, 

Should the Government of the United States 
Own and Control the Railroads ? 

Should Hawaii have been Annexed to the U. S. ? 

Resolved, That Woman Suffrage should Be 
Adopted by an Amendment to the Constitu- 
tion of the United States, .... 

Resolved, That the World Owes more to Navi- 
gation than to Railroads, - 

Resolved, That the United States should Build 
and Control the Nicaragua Canal, 

Resolved, That Tariff for Revenue Only Is of 
Greater Benefit to the People of the United 
States Than a Protective Tariff, 

Resolved, That the Expensive Social Entertain- 
ments of the Wealthy Are of More Benefit 
than Injury to the Country, 

Resolved, That the Hypocrite Is a More Des- 
picable Character than the Liar, 

Resolved, That the Government of the United 
States should Own and Control the Tele- 
phone and Telegraph Systems, . 

Resolved, That the Average Young Man of 
To-day Has Greater Opportunities to make 
Life a Success Financially than His Fore- 
fathers, ....... 

Is Immigration Detrimental to the United States ? 

Are Large Dept. Stores an Injury to the Country? 



VI. 
VII. 



VIII. 



IX. 

X. 

XL 
XII. 



XIII. 



XIV. 



XV. 



XVI. 



XVII. 
XVIII. 



XIX 



XX. 
XXI. 



28 
61 



77 

$6 

94 

106 
122 



127 

135 
148 



160 



172 
179 



185 



199 
206 

2I£ 



Contents of "Pros and Cons." 



•SBCTION PAGE 

XXII. Should Greenbacks Be Retired and the Gov- 
ernment Go Out of Its Present System 
of Banking? ..... 232 

XXIII. Resolved, That Our Present System of Tax- 

ation is the Best that Can Be Devised, 250 

XXIV. Should the President and Senate of the U . S. be 

Elected by Direct Vote of the People ? 258 
XXV. Resolved, That It Is Not Good Policy for 
the Government of the United States to 
Establish a System of Postal Savings, 286 

Questions Outlined* 
XXVI. Resolved, That It is for the Best Interests 
of All the People for the Government to 
Own and Control the Coal Mines, . 318 
XXVII. Resolved, That Trusts and Monopolies Are 
a Positive Injury to the People Finan- 
cially, ...... 327 

XXVIII. Resolved, That Cities should Own and Con- 
trol All the Public Franchises Now 
Conferred upon Corporations, . . 337 
XXIX. Resolved, That Education as It Is Now 
Thrust upon our Youth Is Dangerous to 
Health and Good Government, . 351 

XXX. Resolved, That National Banks should Be 

Abolished, 358 

XXXI. Resolved, That Bi-metallism and Not Pro- 
tection is the Secret of Future Pros- 
perity, 366 

Subjects for Debate* 

XXXII. Two Hundred and Fifty Selected Topics for 

Discussion, ..... 376 

Addresses for Salutatory, Valedictory, and other occasions* 
XXXIII. 
XXXIV. 
XXXV. 
XXXVI. 
XXXVII. 
XXXVIII. 
XXXIX. 



XL. 



Oration — Decoration Day, . . .401 

Essay — February 22, .... 407 

Salutatory — Life, ..... 420 

Oration — Fourth of July, .... 426 

Valedictory, ...... 434 

Address — Christmas Eve, .... 44° 

A Temperance Address — The Nickel Behind 

the Bar, ...... 444 

Essay — Coa3t Defenses, , , f . 45° 



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Brooks' New Virgil's-5£neid, with Lexicon. Revised Edition. 
Notes, Metrical Index, Map, Questions for Examinations, $1.50. 

Brooks' New Ovid's Metamorphoses, with Lexicon. Expur- 
gated and adapted for mixed classes. With Questions. ^1.50. 

Hinds & Noble's Hebrew Grammar, $1.00. 

Songs of All the Colleges. Illuminated cloth cover. $1.50 

Who's Who in Mythology? 1000 mythological characters 
briefly described. 75 cents. 



PIECES FOR : : : : 
PRIZE-SPEAKING 
CONTESTS : i ; : : 



A collection of over one hun- 
dred pieces which have taken 
prizes in prize-speaking contests. 
Cloth, 448 pages. Price, $1.25. 



PUBLISHED BY 

HINDS & NOBLE 

4-5-6424344 Cooper Institute, New York City 



Fenno's Science and Art of Elocution 



fiow to Read and Speak 



Theory and Practice Combined 

The Science and Art of Elocution. Embracing 
a comprehensive and systematic series of exer- 
cises for gesture, calisthenics and the cultivation 
of the voice, together with a collection of nearly 
150 Literary Gems for Reading and Speaking. 
Arranged in four parts and designed to be used as 
a text-book in the class room and for private study, 
as well as for the use of Readers and Speakers 
generally. By Frank S. Fenno, A.M., F.S.Sc, 
graduate of The National School of Elocution 
and Oratory, compiler of " Fenno's Favorites for 
Reading and Speaking," author of "The Chart 
of Elocution," "Lectures on Elocution," etc., etc. 
Price, $1.25. 

Designed to be Used as a Text-book 
and for Private Study 



HINDS & NOBLE, Publishers 
4-5-642-J3-H Cooper Institute New York City 

School Books of All Publishers at One Store 



:-::• 



MAY 14 1901 



